Trapped With My Demons
by JustBFree
Summary: Christine is gifted to Erik as a reward for his skills in the royal court. As time passes, they realize how much they need each other. Rated for language and sexual content.
1. The Corpse Lover

The man stood in the center of the hall, mocked and hated by the creature lounging on the golden throne before him. The Queen watched him as she always did since his punishments began, years ago. Her eyes were narrowed behind her veil, hungry for a sign of weakness though it was usually a study in futility. Not today, however- the mask hid what his body language clearly indicated.

"Well, what do you think of her, Erik?" She asked. Her voice was cool and fluid as her eyes moved between the man and the smaller figure standing before him. The courtesan was young, taken from the Temple of Joys only days before. She wore a thin veil, as did all women, her body concealed in gently layered robes of pale blue cotton.

The man was silent, though the Queen could see the twin flames of amber light behind the mask. His posture was stiff; his thin hands clenched at his sides. He was tense, and, she knew, tempted beyond all reason.

The Queen herself was a beautiful force in her own right. She shared the dark coloring of all the people of Tejar, though it was her dark soul that could so easily captivate friends and ensnare victims. She rose from the ornate throne, her movements liquid. As she stepped closer, her silken robes brushed the floor. Black eyes narrowed above the veil, considering how best to tempt and torment her pet corpse.

"Look upon your prize, my Erik. She is a pure courtesan, yet to have taken her first man," the Queen moved closer and took the girl's hands. "Her hands have been painted for you, Erik, do you see? Symbols to declare her virginity and rare beauty. Is this not enough to convince you?"

Erik made no move and said nothing, as she expected. The Queen released the girl's hands and removed the veil, exposing her face. The Queen cupped the girl's chin and raised her face so that Erik might have a better view of her. At even such a young age, the girl's face was delicate in its beauty; she possessed a gentle, curious expression, high cheekbones were only just beginning to emerge below her green eyes.

He understood then, because she seemed only curious and not afraid, that the girl had no idea of his true face. No rumor, true or false had yet to reach her ears. To her, his mask was strange, but not fearsome.

_'You have no fear of me now, little princess, but our viper Queen will ensure that you do in time…I have earned the loathing of the world, and my hellish tortures have only just begun.'_

"She is your slave, Erik, why not take her? Her skin is honey, her hair ebony, but her eyes, look at her eyes! Jade eyes, very rare, she is an exotic beauty. I chose her for you and you alone." The Queen felt her patience steadily begin to drain. Erik still remained a statue, silent and unmoving.

The insolence! The damned stubbornness, his unending disrespect! The Queen felt the all too familiar pressure build in her temples. This hideous walking corpse dared to defy her, the Queen of all Tejar, with his indifference! The wretched, hateful bastard, he-

_'A new tactic, then, Erik. I knew it would come to this.'_

The Queen circled Erik and the courtesan, who was now trembling slightly. The girl knew nothing of Erik's face- surely it was only her nerves that were causing her to shiver. The girl, even through her seductive training, had never been alone with a man- certainly a man had never seen her bare face!

"She belongs to you now, Erik. Once you give her your ring, no harm shall befall her- but I understand. You are the corpse of a man, but a man just the same, and all men must feed their lust with their eyes. Erik, I will feed yours. You must be starving." The Queen moved to the girl then, and tugged at her robes until they fell to the floor, a soft pool of azure blue.

The girl knew that she dared not move to cover herself- the slightest objection could bring punishments ranging from years of slavery to torture or even death. Her life depended on the whim of her mistress.

The Queen smoothed her hands over the girl's body, stroking over her shoulders, across the collarbone, down to her large chest. Royal hands teased the dark breasts awake before Erik's eyes. She heard just the softest of groans from the man behind her; she smiled knowingly. "What do you say now, Erik? Is she to your liking? She is yours, touch her, Erik, touch her…"

The man's hands clenched tightly at his sides- he was holding himself back from the girl. He was desperate, she knew this, but equally determined not to show his one true weakness: his desire for beauty. The Queen moved her hands languorously over the courtesan's waist, resting lightly on her hips. "Your woman, Erik- tell me what you would do to her. Take her slowly? Seduce her with your song, play her body with your hands as an instrument?" The Queen's voice became low and thick as her mind drifted, her lids fell to half-mast as her thoughts continued. "Or would you take her roughly? Ride her as a sheik rides the wild stallion, bruising her body in your passion…?"

The courtesan shifted in the Queen's hold, lifting her from her fantasies. Erik's mind too had wondered, swimming with visions of entwining bodies and heated flesh. He forced himself to ignore the nude female before him, and looked instead to the older woman behind her. The Queen was fully clothed in her deep crimson silks, the scarf and veil kept her face in eternal hiding- she wore a mask to the world, no different from him.

Her eyes met his, amber and ebony dancing in the candlelight. He could not read her expression, but her eyes told all. Finally, he spoke. "Is it what I would do to her that you wish to hear, my Queen, or what you long for in your own bed? Your desire for the depraved far outreaches my own, mistress. How long has it been since you've had a man? Years, I expect. There is no man in all of Tejar that would take a scorpion to his bed, and I will not be the first."

His voice was cold, biting and hard. The Queen herself shuddered in unease at his tone, and for a moment feared his raging violence. Fear gave way to her own terrible anger and she shoved the courtesan to the side. "I will not have this from you, Erik!"

"No, you will not. I'd rather give it to a viper. Good evening, mistress."

Without waiting to be dismissed, without a backward glance to his Queen, Erik turned from the grand hall, his posture still stiff, his fists still clenched. As he stalked back to his own bedchambers, he heard the Queen's shrieks of loathing anger, promising a terrible revenge.

He thought nothing of it. She had been making that promise for years.

* * *

One week later, Erik was summoned back to the grand hall. 

When not being tortured by the Queen of all Tejar, Erik made himself useful in a myriad of ways for the royal court. He was an architect, a designer, a magician. Often, he crafted toys for the royal children, drew and painted for the emir and assisted the royal couturier in crafting designs for the women of the harem. If was forbidden for Erik to ever see the harem, of course, but he knew that among the women he was something of a legend- an instrument used to keep peace in the softstone walls.

He had once heard a particularly difficult girl be warned of him by a eunuch guard. "You will behave and obey every whim of the emir, you fool, unless you wish for the Queen to unleash her corpse man upon you!"

"Corpse man?"

"Yes! She raised a man from the dead and enslaved him, he obeys her without question- unlike you!- and if you did not first die of fright, he would ruin your body, is that what you want?"

"No!"

No, of course not, no woman had seen Erik, but they feared him already. He had accepted his fate of loneliness in the world years before, yet he knew that a part of him would always long for something more. He shook his head to clear the thought away.

'_Now is not the time, my latest patient needs to be tended.'_

His thin fingers unlatched the twig cage he kept beside his bed. Inside, there was a large rat. It was a creature that repulsed the royals, but Erik held no ill will toward any animal. He more than made up for the ugliness others could find in vermin, and preferred their company to that of men anyway.

The note demanding him to go to the great hall had been pinned to his door, and Erik glanced over it with a roll of his eyes.

"Another summons. There was a time when she would request me only once a week for beatings or to be whipped, now she has moved on to try torturing my mind. Stupid woman, she knows nothing." He muttered to the rat that he held in one hand. The rat's body was in constant motion, always sniffing for food and trying to scurry away.

Various other creatures stirred in their cages all about his bedchamber- lizards and snakes, rodents and birds, all various kind of injured animals that he'd come across and vowed to heal.

Erik kept tight hold of the rat, but tried not to hurt it- the poor creature had suffered enough. Their beloved Queen had grown bored one day and burned the rat's paws. Erik had taken the rat from her and had been nursing its feet for some time already. The rat would soon be ready to leave him- all of the animals were making quick recoveries, all the animals would leave him soon. He turned the rat over in his hand and looked at the tiny paws.

_'Yes, I believe I'll release you into the harem in a few days time, my friend. You'll scare the emir's little whores easily enough, but I dare say that if unmasked I'd shock them all into an early grave. But for now, I must leave you and attend to the only other monster in all of Tejar.'_

Erik put the rat back into the cage and left his room. The walk to the grand hall of the Queen was fairly long; her hall was settled in the back center of the palace, while his chamber occupied a high room in the North Tower. Erik wasted no time on his walk.

Upon entering the hall, he knew that some terrible punishment would be visited upon him that night. The Queen rested on her throne, her eyes glaring, as contemptible as ever. They were not alone. Along the walls stood eunuch guards with servants of the Queen, and all around them were the women of the royal harem. His heart began to hammer in his chest.

Erik had never been presented with beauty in such droves before- colorfully veiled faces on all sides peered at him curiously. His helpless eyes drank the women in; the golden light from the sconces in the walls above them gilded their skin and sparked their jewelry. Emerald anklets, ruby earrings, sapphire necklaces- all accent pieces to Erik's mind. Trinkets and baubles, nothing more.

It was the women themselves, their olive skin and kohl-rimmed eyes, the dark tresses tumbling over bare shoulders. Every woman was different; all of them were of varying heights and body shapes, all of them adorned with gems. Colorful silk costumes they wore, all of them in unique designs to better please the emir. It was a strange thing, so see his designs worn by the most desirable women in all of Tejar, all of them presented before him at once.

Erik's pulse raced and his stomach churned even as his blood sang with longing. He wanted a woman, had longed for and dreamed of a woman to call his own, but he'd sooner cut his own hand than knowingly defile any of them. He forced his eyes to the Queen. She was smiling at him, the smile of a tiger. Erik swallowed.

"My Queen?"

"I'm glad that you've come, Erik. Please, come and stand before me. We have things to talk about." Erik moved away from the doorway and came to stand before the throne. The Queen extended her hand, something she'd never done before, and allowed Erik not only to touch his bare hand to hers, but also to touch the lips of his mask to the large onyx ring that rested on her first finger.

His eyes narrowed behind the mask. '_What does she want from me?'_

"How may I be of service, my mistress?"

A eunuch guard approached them, offering wine. The Queen took the bottle and two glasses. Erik watched carefully as she poured for them both. He made sure that she sipped first before he tasted the red for himself. It was good, but sweeter than he expected.

The Queen reclined back on her throne and leveled her gaze at him. "Erik, last week you and I parted on ugly terms," her use of the word was deliberate, Erik knew this. "But I hope to make amends. After all, before this you were a loyal servant to my son and I. There was an order given, months ago, to find a reward for the entertainment you've provided me these last few years- the least you could do, after you robbed me of…" she paused then, and a show of true, genuine pain crossed her face, but only for only a moment.

She touched her temple and took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, her hatred for him was renewed completely. "Never mind the past, we must look upon the present and the future."

Erik nodded and continued to sip the wine; already he could feel it warming his blood. He had been listening to the words of his mistress Queen, but his eyes had wandered to the exposed legs of one of the courtesans, to the silk draped breasts of the next…he felt his blood heat and his body tense in arousal, but he attempted to put it from his mind.

Erik's eyes lazily moved back to the Queen. "You mentioned a reward."

"Yes, of course, all in due time. It took my scouts weeks to find just the right thing to present you with, no easy task, I assure you! I had one particular vision in mind, but you will get your just rewards once I have you complete a task for me."

Erik tried to concentrate on the Queen, yet his eyes roamed the room to gaze upon the lush bodies surrounding them. The royal musicians had been playing a distant drum beat, slow and primal. Incense in the air tickled his senses. A light sweat broke upon his brow beneath the mask, though he found it difficult to focus on anything other than his ripening body. Surges of lust blossomed within him, a red fog closed over his mind.

"A…task…?" he asked, his voice faltering under the pressure of his straining loins.

The Queen's eyes narrowed. "Yes, Erik, such a simple task, and one I think a corpse like you might even find pleasurable. You see, there was a girl, new to the ways of the harem, but she disappointed me beyond all belief, and I need you to discipline her, Erik."

A soft moan escaped from the man, and the Queen's wicked smile grew ever more terrible. She took in the glazed, lusting eyes behind the mask; her eyes wandered lower, to the obvious arousal below his waist. She turned to the eunuch who had presented the bottle and handed it back to him. "Thank you. I see that it's working. Bring her forward."

Two more eunuchs appeared, entering the hall through a side door. Between them, they dragged a smaller figure, each of them gripping an arm while the feet trailed on the floor behind them. The girl in question.

The Queen finally moved, she stepped down from her throne and looked down on Erik, the once great magician, now reduced to a true corpse puppet.

'_My puppet, my puppet, let me pull your strings!' _

"Put her down before him," she said to the guards. They did as they were told. The girl's body had been covered from head to toe; only the faint dips and curves beneath the silk robes betrayed the female form. Erik felt his mind regress as his body took over.

'_The wine_,' he realized in his last moments of clarity, _'She drugged the wine! You idiot, you downed the whole glass, while she barely tasted it! What new horror has she in store?'_

The Queen stepped closer to him and raised herself onto the balls of her delicate feet. When she spoke, it was a whisper that only he could hear as he stood dumbly, trapped by his own lust and longing. "How does it feel, Erik? Yes, I know you can hear me, I know that you are at least somewhat aware in the mind, even as your body is only aware of sensation," a tiny movement of her hand, and she touched his straining member through the material of his suit. "You are so unique, aren't you?"

"I know you will try to forget this, but a night such as this will live forever in your memory. When we last spoke, Erik, I asked you a question: how will you take the young courtesan? Now we will know!"

The Queen moved away from him then, and raised her voice to speak to the entire room, eunuchs, servants and courtesans. "Many of you thought him a simple legend before, but now let the truth be known. Behold, the walking corpse of Tejar!" She lunged at Erik and tore the mask from his face.

For a moment there was terrified silence. Trapped within his own mind, Erik wished greatly for death to claim him.

'_Why must you be so cruel? You humiliate me endlessly for your pleasure, who is the true monster here?'_

The harem girls screamed, several of them turned away in disgust. A few tried to run from the room as the eunuch guards attempted to calm the women, though several of the men had gone pale and looked as if they were about to be ill themselves.

_'I hate you all, every last one of you! Damn you, mistress, I'll kill you myself for this…'_

The Queen stood before him, her smile gleeful as a small child's. It was horrifying to him then, to know that such a vile woman had once been able to produce a wonderful, beautiful child as the Little Sultana. But then came the thought of his own mother, who must have once been happy, at least before he was born.

The harem girls were still upset, many of them crying now, screaming echoes in the hall. He would take their screams into his nightmares for years to come, he knew this.

"You truly are a corpse, Erik. It's been years since I've seen your true face, I'd almost forgotten just how unbelievably hideous you are. I could not have done better in finding you a mate, although, there is only one way to be sure!"

The Queen bent down then, and pulled the robes from the girl. Erik's mind raged, cursing God, the Queen and his own disgusting state of full arousal at the sight of the naked girl. The courtesan, the one he'd rejected the week before lay before him; she was nude as she had been that day, and dead.

_'Dead!'_

Dead by a slash across her slender throat. His eyes took in the sight of her pale, sunken flesh. Her eyes were blank, staring straight up to the ceiling high above them. Green eyes. The girl's skin was drained of blood; her once glorious hair was left in stringy vines around her face. The body was sprawled on the floor, spread-eagle, mocking him, allowing him to see such feminine secrets that he'd never seen before in true life.

_'Oh, God, not you girl. You poor fool, poor fool, no, no, Queen please don't make me do this to her!'_

The Queen snapped an order to the eunuch guards, who moved towards Erik. They tore the clothes from his body and once he himself was naked, they shoved him atop the little courtesan's body. What happened next, Erik fought desperately to block from his memory. His body was beyond the control of his mind.

The stench of the girl's corpse, the desperate release his body found within her cold depths, the Queen's pleasured moans, the disgusted crying of the harem women…he had never before known such abomination!

It was quick. Once Erik had reached climax, the fog began to gradually clear from his mind, and little by little, Erik gained more control of his body. Still within the dead courtesan, he rested on his elbows in a sick mockery of true lovers. He gazed down in the girl. Death's face stared back at him, accusing him of her fate.

From far away, he heard the Queen dismiss the harem and servants. He lifted his head to watch as she followed her servants from the hall. She was set to be the last one to leave the room, and once she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned to look back at him.

"You'll be wanting some privacy to say goodbye to your only lover, Erik, but don't take too long, the maggots may awaken within her flesh before you are finished." With that last statement, she left the hall and all of a sudden, Erik was left alone with the girl's corpse.

His senses regained, Erik struggled off of the girl, withdrawing himself quickly, sickened as his cold seed leaked from the girl as he did so. He backed away from her and put a hand to his mouth.

_'Good God, what have I done?'_

Poor, terrified Erik lurched as he pulled on his clothes. He turned away from the corpse as he dressed- his tormented imagination plaguing him. In his mind's eye, the girl had turned her head to stare at him, pointing at him with furious, accusing fingers.

_'The girl knows that I could have protected her, she knows it even in death! All I had to do was give her my ring, and she would have been safe, she knows this! It was you, Erik, you did this! The girl is dead, her life destroyed completely thanks to your pride!'_

Pride, yes. Erik was a proud man, though he had very little to show for his life. No family, certainly no friend to speak of- he was alone, and had innocent blood on his hands, but he had once taken comfort in the thought that he was beyond the normal urges of a man.

His stomach twisted in disgust and self-loathing. '_I am nothing now- a defiler of virgin corpses! Why can she not kill me and be done with it? I welcome you, Death, take me now!'_

The nausea became far too great, and Erik staggered out of the hall. He became violently ill into one of the oversized vases that lined the long corridors. The corpse remained where it was- he'd half expected her to rise up and chase him through the palace. Erik would have welcomed it, for it was his own arrogant hubris that had killed her. The corpse did not move. Erik moved away from the hall.

'_This wasn't how it was meant to be!_ ' He raged. '_Love, intimacy, no, no! Pleasure, a corpse! All of them, just watching, I'll kill that bitch with my bare hands, I will, I will!' _

Erik was blind with red rage and sick humiliation. He hated the Queen, nearly as much as he hated himself. The palace housed several rooms dedicated to bathing; Erik kicked in the door to the one nearest to his room in the high North Tower, and locked himself inside.

All he wanted in the world was to feel clean again. Erik stripped himself naked and set up a bath. Scalding water enveloped him as he slipped below the surface of a large porcelain tub. The huge basin could have easily allowed room for ten men, but Erik needed all the water and scented soap within reach.

He scrubbed his vile body raw, soaping every patch of skin until he burned. He did not stop until he'd covered himself in full bottles of soaping oil, nearly scrubbing the skin clean off his bones. He scrubbed his skin, nails and hair- he didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon himself, he just wanted the scent of the girl cleansed from his memory.

_'Get her off of me; get her off and away and gone!'_

Two hours later, Erik finally emerged from the bathing pool. His skin was sore and his muscles ached. He was exhausted and still repulsed by what had happened in the Queen's hall, but he took a margin of comfort once he found that the girl's scent was gone from his body. He had been able to block most of the memories of the actual sex act, but he knew that he would always remember that face…that truly dead face with its accusing eyes and the silly, petty shame he'd felt in admitting that, even when compared to a real cadaver, the girl's poor dead soul would still emerge the victor in a competition of beauty.

He dressed quickly, urgent to return to his chambers high in the tower, away from the hall and the terrible Queen. He needed to draw, to paint, to compose some piece of music, to check on his animals, _anything!_ He wished himself to be a scorpion, free to crawl into a dark hole and hide from the world forever…

'_Get a hold of yourself, Erik! It did_ _**not **happen. Remain calm, regain yourself, go on about life, for very soon the Queen will be the corpse on the floor of the hall, and you will have forever escaped this monstrous place!'_

He comforted himself with the thought that the miserable bitch had not broken him. Erik was deeply disturbed by what the Queen had forced him to do, but he would not give in to her. Erik remained as he was, while very soon the Queen would be nothing more than a bloodied corpse slumped upon her gaudy throne.

_'Yes- not broken, but the Queen will be, yes, yes…my lasso will snap her neck…'_

Erik stepped over the threshold of his doorway and started. His reward was resting in his bed. Tears filled his eyes and he felt his throat constrict. "No…"


	2. Erik's Wife

Erik stepped forward into his room, securing the door behind him. His hands were shaking, the exhaustion forgotten for his shock. A girl was lying upon his bed. '_Not another corpse, no!'_

His heart lurched at the thought, but then sank low once he saw the girl was breathing, alive. '_A_ _corpse would be a blessing. So, this is the Queen's reward! What have you done to deserve this punishment, girl?'_

Erik was not afraid, only surprised at her presence, and unsure how to handle her. For all his mastery over men, Erik had no experience with females, and he knew it showed. He moved in for a closer look, curious despite his anxiety.

He felt uneasy by the girl, upset; surely if he woke her now she would only scream and attempt to run. '_I pray that she escapes this hellish kingdom- silly dreams leading to silly prayers! I have not yet escaped, how could she?_ '

Erik moved towards the bed for a closer look and though he felt strangely tempted, he dared not brush her cheek with his fingertips. The girl was young, though perhaps older than his doomed courtesan. Her coloring was fair- unheard of in Tejar! The girl's skin was luminous, broken only by the flush of her cheeks; her hair a tumble of deep black waves. Erik could not stop his eyes. The girl's chest rose and fell evenly, displaying round, pert breasts hidden beneath the gossamer sheet of his bed.

'_A woman in my bed- all I've ever wanted, but not like this, never_!' Erik thought. His palms felt sweaty; he didn't know what to do. Should he wake the girl and demand answers, or wait until she awoke on her own and explained herself?

'_I am too tired to deal with yet another woman.'_ Erik felt the weariness close over him again, his wretched body demanding rest so that his mind would be better able to forget the awful night. The girl would have to remain unknowing of his presence and untouched by his hand- for now.

Erik decided to leave her until the morning. The door was locked and he possessed the key; if she woke up before he did in the morning, there was nowhere she could go.

He broke his eyes from the girl and pulled a warmer blanket over her long body. He felt captivated by her very presence, helplessly drawn already, and she was not even awake!

_'Where did you come from, girl? Are you from the harem, are you a slave? …sleep, little beauty, I will learn more of you tomorrow…'_

Erik looked upon her, but his body had been drained that night- no animal lust bloomed in his chest. He pulled the blanket over her, already caught up in the urge to protect the girl- both from the cool draft and from his merciless Queen.

The eiderdown cover enveloped the girl, and he turned away. Erik took an extra pillow and blanket from the closet and settled down on the floor beside her. Exhaustion was closing in quickly; his sleep was aided by the steady breathing of the mysterious girl tucked neatly in his bed.

* * *

Dawn's light broke through the windows of Erik's chamber within the North Tower. The light fell across him, dazzling the eyes behind the mask. He woke easily- sleep had never been a large demand upon his body; usually he rose with the first of the sun's light. He made no move to stand; he listened for the girl. Her slow, even breathing came down from above, soothing to his ears. 

'_The dove still sleeps_,'

Erik would not be put off; he had to speak with the girl, today, and understand how she had come to be there. He stood from the floor- his back and neck were stiff from the hard stone, but he ignored the pain. More important things reigned over his mind than cramped muscles. Erik took his blanket and pillow back into the closet across the room and then selected his clothes for the day.

The Queen demanded that he wore select costumes to enhance the horror felt by the chosen victims of her court that laid eyes upon him. The costumes were French cut suits- commonplace anywhere else in the world, but in Tejar they only added to his intimidating mystique.

Erik was deadly with his golden lasso, which might have been enough to earn him the title of the Queen's favored assassin…but a walking masked corpse, risen from a fresh foreign grave! He was a novelty, the dark, magical fiend, the Queen's deadly pet…self-loathing returned full force as he glanced back at the girl in his bed.

_'What will she have me do to you? Will she drug me again and have me rape you before the whole kingdom? No. I would kill the Queen first, I would kill myself first!'_

He dressed quickly, and ignored the fact that he'd chosen his most handsome suit to wear for her. It was sleek black material, embroidered with scarlet silk thread. '_We all like to dress for our guests, I would just like to be polite- I expect I will be the only one in Tejar to show her the least bit of kindness. For my kindness, I will demand hers in return…'_

Erik was stalling for time, he knew this. Simply, he didn't want to frighten her, but how could he not? She would awaken soon, in a strange room with an even stranger man in a mask. Fear would be inevitable, he knew this as well, but he was just so tired of being feared and hated…

_'Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you fool! Yes, the girl will be afraid, but once she sees that you mean her no harm, she will come to trust you_…that is, if she is not in league with the Queen…!'

Erik straightened his suit jacket and adjusted his posture before forcing himself from the closet and into the main bedroom chamber. He'd allowed this to go on long enough; he wanted answers. Erik strode across the room and paused before the bed. The girl seemed not to have moved in the night. He leaned down- her body was very warm- and lightly gripped her shoulders.

He shook her, but the girl's brow only furrowed and her full lips frowned. Her head turned to the side and her body shifted beneath his sheets, stretching on an unfamiliar bed. Her limbs seemed heavy to her, the transition from sleep to the waking world a tremendous struggle. '_So, she has been drugged then…'_

She issued a soft groan before her lids fluttered open. Erik was surprised, pleasantly, to find her eyes to be a bright, grassy green. '_Lovelier and lovelier!'_

The green eyes appeared glazed over as she looked about the room, but Erik could see that awareness was quickly returning to her, whoever she was. She blinked several times before her eyes fell into his, or rather, her gaze fell upon the mask and she started up.

Her eyes went wide with fear and she backed away from him on the bed, her mouth working rapidly, issuing forth fast and furious sounds. Her voice was lovely, but Erik concentrated on the words flying off her lips.

_'The mother-tongue! No wonder the Queen brought you to me,_ ma belle fille_!'_

He focused, and translated her terrified words in his mind. "Please don't hurt me, I haven't done anything! Where am I, who are you?" Erik made no move toward her; he took a few steps back from the bed and held out his empty hands to show that he was unarmed. He smiled ironically beneath the mask- he would need no weapon if he had truly wished to harm her.

It had been years since Erik had spoken his own native French, but he fell back into the words; old habit. "Please, lower your voice. Shouting will only draw attention. I will answer your questions, but you must answer mine as well, do you understand?"

The girl had backed up against the softstone wall. Her body was trembling and her eyes looked upon him as if he was not a man, but a starved lion. Her evident fear did not waver, but she nodded at him once. "Oui,"

Erik nodded back to her. "You are in the kingdom of Tejar, I believe that you were brought here by the Queen's men. My name is Erik, what is yours?" He asked.

"Christine Daae…yes, I remember that I was at home…in the garden. I remember someone grabbed my arm, I only thought it was…and then I woke up here! Why? I don't understand any of this!" Her voice retained its trembling, but that hint of hysteria was thankfully gone.

'_Christine_.'

"Please, calm yourself Christine. Come away from the wall and I will have a servant bring you a meal," Erik beckoned her.

The girl's fearful trembling subsided only a touch, replaced with glorious suspicion and anger. "Like hell I will! I'm not coming anywhere near you, do you think I'm an idiot? I know about the Middle East and it's barbaric slave trade, it's disgusting! I see why I've been brought here- you want me to be a sex slave to a goddamn sheik, I'd rather die first!" She spat, hatred and fury evident in her voice.

Erik was shocked to hear such an angry speech, but her fire intrigued him all the more. His head tilted upon the revelation. '_My dove has talons…'_

"I do not know why you were brought here, but I have my suspicions. You said that you were kidnapped, taken from your home. Where is home, Christine?"

"It's…an island off the coast of France, below Corsica."

"Just across the Mediterranean sea, it must have been easy for them to take you. I'm sorry for all of this, I know that you're afraid." Genuine concern touched Erik's voice, and he did mean his words, but he had to make her understand that submission was key to her survival.

"Why did they take me?" She demanded.

Erik saw no reason to hide the truth from this Christine- information was power in every realm of the world; hiding anything from her would only strengthen her suspicion of him. Already she intrigued him, and he wished to soothe her, gain her trust in some small way.

Erik backed away from the bed, allowing even more distance between them, and told her, "Christine, listen to me. You were taken by the Queen's men, and placed here, most likely to be my slave."

"Your _slave?"_ Enraged disbelief colored her words.

"Yes, you are to be my reward-"

"Don't you dare come near me! I don't care where we are, you can't force anyone to be your slave, if you think you can just kidnap someone and rape them-"

"I would never!" His voice boomed in the room, swallowing hers. "Silence, Christine, just be quiet and listen to me! The Queen ordered you to be brought here, to my bedchambers. This is nothing to do with you; you are nothing more than the instrument that she will use to torture me. Don't you see? You are expendable. I won't hurt you, but I am the only one in Tejar who will make that promise. You have no choice but to trust me, I am the only one who can protect you. Now, how about that meal?"

Christine's mouth uttered several French curses, but Erik ignored her. She couldn't understand anything that was happening around her- how had she been kidnapped, hadn't anyone seen the men who had taken her? The man in the mask, Erik, he called himself, had just informed her that she was now a slave- _his slave_- and then abruptly changed the subject, it was too much!

"Erik, no, you must explain this to me!"

The man leaned nonchalantly against his desk and picked up a cage that had been resting on its surface. Inside, there was a small yellow bird. "I thought I just had. As far as anyone here is concerned, you are a slave. Rest assured that I will _never_ treat you as such. I am not a monster, I will never force you or bring harm to you Christine, but for your own safety we must put on the front of slave and master."

"What? Why?"

"The Queen, Christine. She will want proof that I have…_enjoyed_ my reward. You were brought here for me, we must convince her that her generosity was not in vain," he said. His voice was soothing and level, but he spoke slowly, as if only voicing his thoughts as they occurred.

Christine moved from her position against the wall, and stood up from his bed, but she didn't come too close. "How can we do that?"

Erik made a sighing noise in the back of his throat and looked toward the window. "The dawn is here. My mistress will desire some proof of our…union." He drew a blade from a drawer of his desk, and moved toward the bed. Christine gasped and moved away from him, but Erik ignored her fear. He knew that it would take days before she gave him the slightest trust, if any, but her complete fear irritated him all the same.

He held out his hand over the sheets of his bed and drew the blade across his palm. Christine's gasp was audible, but Erik paid her no mind. The blood from his palm dripped down onto the sheet, creating a small red stain. "Proof of our union," he repeated. "She'll be wanting the sheets soon. I will harm myself before harming you; is this proof enough to you, Christine?"

She nodded, but made no move towards him. He hadn't expected that she would.

* * *

Erik summoned a servant by pulling on the bell rope that hung from the ceiling in the corner of his bedroom. Christine remained as far from him as she could manage without going out of the high window. 

He had entreated Christine several times not to fear him, but she still refused to come close to him for fear that he might grab at her. She'd cocooned herself in a large pile of colorful pillows that rested in the far corner of his room, and so far she had kept silent. Erik kept his distance, but hadn't stopped talking to her.

He couldn't lie to himself; it was nice to have someone new to talk to- especially when this new someone was so attractive. Possessing a horrible face had never stopped him from admiring the beauty surrounding him, and even better, they were speaking French- he'd come to realize how much he missed speaking his native language.

"I've ringed for a servant who will bring you some breakfast. I advise you not to make a scene when she arrives, it will only cause trouble," Erik told her. Christine just glared at him, she didn't say anything.

Minutes later, a soft knock came at the door. Christine leapt up from the silken pillow nest and pounced at the door. Erik didn't bother trying to stop her; the door was locked from the inside. He got up from his chair and moved to the anteroom before the door. Christine was there, her pale hands scrabbling over the surface, frantically pulling, her nails scratching to find a way to escape from him.

Hesitantly, Erik raised a hand to her shoulder. She spun to face him, her fists raised in defense; Erik lashed out to restrain her, wrapping his skeletal fingers around her wrists. "No, Christine!" He hissed softly, "You **will** compose yourself, do you understand me? If you throw yourself into danger, I will not be able to protect you- now, be silent and submissive. For your own safety, you must obey me!"

Christine's eyes flashed fire at him, her soft face contorted into defiant anger, but Erik felt the tension leave her arms. Oh, she was furious, but she had seen the view from his window and knew that he hadn't been lying about where they were. The palace was far from the ocean, settled in a deep valley, with high cliffs rising on either side. The air was stifling and unfamiliar to her; it was the desert's air.

Erik nodded and gestured for her to move to the side so that he might open the door and allow the servant to set down their breakfast within the main bedchamber. He unlocked the door and opened it to find a servant girl on the other side. Not so ominous was she, but what caught Erik's immediate concern were the two guards that flanked her.

Men of the Queen's direct employ- Erik knew the both of them; they were the Queen's standby assassins. Blood from hundreds of innocents was on all of their hands, but unlike Erik, these two walking horrors took pride in the fact. Erik swallowed and allowed the guards to follow the servant girl into the main room.

Kuma was a large, hulking figure and Trapoi was leaner, though no less deadly. They hated Erik, not only for the hideous face beneath his mask, but for the attention he drew from the Queen. Who was this disgusting foreigner to receive favor from their mistress?

They brushed past Erik, pointedly bumping his shoulder as they plodded into his room. He followed close behind, ready to kill the both of them if they so much as laid a hand on Christine.

Erik understood his feelings toward her- Christine had been kidnapped, taken to this unfamiliar place to be nothing more than live bait the Queen could use to manipulate him. Christine hated everything about this place, and she also hated him, but Erik would still protect her. And, he vowed, he would find a way to take her home.

_'I'll bring you home, but first I must keep the both of us alive long enough to come up with a plan of escape, you **must** cooperate with me…'_

The young servant girl had brought a plate of fruit and cheese, with a jug of wine for them to share. She set the platter down on his desk, and bowed to Christine, who had been standing nearby. She raised her brows and spoke softly to the girl, "Do you speak French? Can you understand me? Please, I need help!"

The girl gave an awkward smile, bowed once more, and left the room. Kuma and Trapoi remained where they were, standing in the center of the room, their hungry eyes roving over Christine.

Her foreign coloring was exotic, and the outfit she wore left little to the imagination. It was a costume from the harem; a deep violet skirt with high slits draped over her legs, while a small top barely concealed her bold breasts. A red jewel pierced her navel, drawing only more attention to her narrow waist.

Erik saw the fear swarm over her eyes as Trapoi stepped closer to her. He tensed and felt the reassurance of the lasso tucked into his sleeve. Christine backed against the wall, glaring in animal fury as this stranger advanced on her with a sinister grin.

Trapoi stepped in close to Christine, but made no move to touch her. Erik was on hair trigger awareness, more than ready to have his lasso around the man's neck.

_'Give me a reason, Trapoi, just **dare** to touch what is meant to be mine…'_

Trapoi's fingertips hovered over the soft curve of her cheekbone, dancing above her skin. His hand lingered, but no contact was made. Erik could not kill him, not with Kuma beside him as a witness; if Trapoi fell to Erik's lasso without committing the trespass of touching his woman, Erik would be tried as a murderer, and then what would become of Christine?

The lean man backed a few steps away from Christine, and turned to Erik. "She is beautiful, Corpse. You must have pleased our Queen to be given such a treasure- a whore of the West, isn't she? Yes, she must be. And if she is a whore, then she must be aching for a real man after having you. Perhaps I'll go first, and then Kuma can-"

"You would both be dead before your bodies hit the floor," Erik hissed. "Our Queen saw fit to gift me with a reward, if you so much as look at her again, I'll snap your necks. Do _not_ make the mistake of thinking you can threaten me. You've seen what I can do,"

Trapoi glared at Erik. "Your mouth will land you in acid, mark my words. Tell us, has your little whore seen what lies beneath your masks? You can't fool us, Corpse. We've seen you watching the servant girls; we've seen your drawings done for the harem. We know what you want, and what this little bitch means to you,"

Trapoi grinned and started back towards Christine, but before he was able to even face her fully, he was flat on his back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Christine gasped, terrified by the sight before her: Erik had unleashed a thin, golden rope from his sleeve, the twine wrapped around the other man's neck!

"Oh, God!" she cried.

Erik ignored Christine's sobbing, but he dragged Trapoi's struggling body away from her. Kuma remained silent beside Erik, making no move to help or hinder his capture of Trapoi- he could not step forward to interfere, it was law.

Erik reigned Trapoi in close, until the man lay at his feet and he bent down to whisper in his hear, "If you ever come near her again, I'll deck the grand hall with your entrails and as a personal gift for my woman, I'll string her a necklace from the _eyes of your children_. Now, get the hell out of my Tower and take the ox with you."

For once, Trapoi displayed some obedience as he stood and allowed Erik to remove the golden lasso from around his neck. The skin it revealed was rubbed raw from the rope's thin twine, but the skin had not been broken.

_'Pity.'_

Trapoi and Kuma both made hasty exits, though it was Kuma who paused just long enough to take the bloodstained sheet, which had been their original intent. Assassins they were, but even the likes of them were not immune to fear of the unknown, and Erik was terrifying in his own right.

The door slammed behind them, and Erik kept his back turned to Christine as he replaced the lasso within the folds of his suit. He could hear her deep breathing- she was hungry, exhausted, frightened, and that violent scene would have done nothing to ease her stress.

Erik felt suddenly angry at the world- he'd only been trying to have Christine relax with him when those two fools had intruded and spoiled everything. He turned to face her, forced himself to calm down. "Christine, I'm sorry you saw that, it wasn't my intent."

She was against the wall again, eyes wide and fearful. Erik felt he was beginning to prefer her when she had been asleep, quiet and content in his bed. Since the moment she awoke Christine had been terrified of him. The more he tried to ease her fears, the more intimidating he became in her eyes. She said nothing.

"I hadn't planned on that to happen, I only attacked him because he threatened to harm you. Remember, I said that I would protect you, and I will keep to my word by finding a way to bring you home…please, Christine, come to me. We need to talk, you must trust me." Erik beckoned her with his voice, crooning to her in an attempt to soothe.

Christine's breathing had slowed, and she ran a hand through her raven hair. Her voice was very small, "Erik, I won't make it out of here alive, will I?"

He was taken aback by the question, but thankfully his mask betrayed nothing. "If you display any form of disobedience before the people here, if you try to escape, if you are…taken by any other man, yes. They will kill you without a second thought, but I can protect you."

Christine came forward, only two steps, but two steps closer to trust. "How? You can't be with me every moment. What if you have to leave me here? What's to stop those men, or any other men from just walking in here and forcing me…?" Her lilting voice had finally broken down to tears, and poor Christine covered her face with her hands as she cried.

Erik stepped to her, unsure of how to behave. He cursed his own damn ignorance- no one had ever needed comfort from him, certainly no woman! He didn't know what to do, or how she would react should he touch her, but her cries wrenched his heart. Softly, Erik cupped her shoulders and guided her forward until she was in his embrace.

_'She does not flinch, she does not withdraw or recoil…'_

Christine knew nothing of him, and could not understand the worlds that her simple acceptance meant to him. For the first time, Erik held a woman in his arms. His heart thundered as her scent rose to him, as her heat touched him. His hands tightened reassuringly around her.

He fought to find the words. "Christine, I have only one way to extend my protection when I am not in person to defend you," his voice shook at the realization of what he was offering to her. This girl he knew nothing of, this girl who could never know anything of him…

Christine broke their embrace, stepping out of the circle of his arms. She brought her arms before her, attempting to cover her nearly exposed chest in a gesture of protection. "What do you mean?"

He felt a swift passing chill. "I have a ring, it was my mother's. I know it's strange, and no doubt this has been the strangest day of your life, but…will you wear it, Christine? Will you wear Erik's ring?"

Her green eyes attempted to search his behind the mask, but there was no luck there. She nodded, though she didn't fully understand what he was asking of her. "Yes, I will."

Erik felt his heart lurch- he'd dreamt for years that a woman would wear his ring, but nothing more than dream! And now this beautiful girl had accepted his proposal! Christine had just witnessed his danger firsthand, his controlled rage, but still she trusted him enough to wear his ring! His heart sang, swelling his chest and bringing tears of joyful pain to his eyes.

Christine tilted her head at him, "Erik, are you all right?"

His voice was strained behind the mask, but he nodded and cleared his throat, "Oh, yes. I'm fine, wonderful. Thank you for this, Christine. Let me retrieve the ring," he stepped around her then, his posture rigid. She followed him with her eyes; she was wary of allowing him too close to her person despite that she'd allowed him to hug her as she cried. She saw that his hands, his strong pale hands, were shaking slightly at his sides. She didn't understand what could have upset him so.

Erik went into the closet, and bent to a small chest that rested in a corner, covered with a colorful silk scarf. There were small treasures inside, the few happy mementos of his life before Tejar. A photograph of his mother in the family chateau in Paris- he only knew her smile from the picture; the collar of the fox he'd kept as a pet when he was a boy, his father's service metals from the military…his mother's wedding ring.

Erik had taken it from her jewelry box the night he'd left France- his mother had stopped wearing it years ago and he'd often wondered if she had even noticed that it had gone missing. Erik left the closet and opened his hand to have a better look at the ring. It had been over five years since he'd bothered to look at it.

The ring was interesting, a triple braided band of gold. Thin, feminine, engraved with his mother's initials on the inside. He rubbed off the dust that had gathered in the months since it had last seen the light.

'_It's not the diamond you deserve for all that you've been through, Christine, but you said that you'd wear my ring…'_

Erik silently beckoned Christine to him, reaching his hand out for hers. She came towards him, and amazingly, willingly touched him. The hand she placed into his was soft and warm, the same way she'd felt in his arms. He felt transfixed by her smallest gesture- the digits were long and slender, the skin very pale, reminiscent of his own though infinitely more beautiful.

'_There is no blood on her hands_,'

Erik looked her in the eyes. "Christine, this was my mother's wedding ring. It is something of an heirloom; I never dreamt a woman would wear my ring. I thought my mother would be the last to wear it, but I will give it to you." Erik paused then, and felt his hands tremble slightly.

He wanted her to understand, to accept, to trust. "This will marry you to me; if you wear this ring, you become my wife- you will be under my protection, and you have my word that I will do everything in my power to bring you home."

Christine's full lips parted, though she said nothing. Erik could feel tension in the hand that he held, but she made no move to pull from him. She feared him still; he could see it in her eyes. "I will force nothing of myself on you, you have my word. We must only appear as lovers when in view of others, this requires nothing more than holding hands and going on outings together," Erik held on to the white lie- he yearned to do as others did, he wished to take Christine out and have her appear proud to accompany him. Was that so wrong?

Christine, for her part, didn't know what to say. If she accepted Erik's ring, she would become his wife!

'_This is impossible! I've been kidnapped here to the desert and this man has just proposed! The men here have no respect for women or life…I can't let them rape me, I can't let them kill me…Erik did stop that man from touching me…can I trust him with my life? Can I trust anyone? God, what choices do I have? Live as a slave, or allow this man to marry us and pray he will bring me home, if he hasn't lied…'_

Christine's eyes stung with tears- she didn't know what to do, but truly, there was no choice. Wear the ring of this man, or she would surely be taken by force or killed- most likely both! Part of her wanted to trust Erik, another part of her wanted to take his ring and throw it out the window.

Erik had put her in a terrible spot- marry him or live as a slave, what choice did she have?

"So, Christine…will you wear my ring?"

She nodded, "Yes, Erik, I will."

He slipped the ring onto her fourth finger and closed his hands over hers. "You wear my ring, my wife…" his voice was soft, but Christine could not miss the pure happiness, the unadulterated joy that colored his words.


	3. Alone In The Garden

**Author's Note: It's Monday morning, and I'll be wrapped up the rest of the week with school and work so I don't know when the next update will be- sorry guys! Lucky for you, this chapter is pretty long. Please read and review, have a great day! PS- Erik's various masks throughout this story were inspired by the leper king's masks in the movie Kingdom of Heaven**

* * *

Christine moved away from Erik, staring down at the golden ring that looped over her finger. How had this happened? Just the day before, she had been concerned with nothing more than planting in her garden and running on the white shores of her home; now, she had been forced to marry this crazed man, Erik. The room spun around her as she tried to gain her bearings.

'_I've been brought here to become his slave, and now I'm supposed to be his wife! This is insanity- surely this has all been a dream?'_

Christine sunk down into one of the chairs and put her head in her hands. She took several deep breaths before straightening up and facing Erik, her "husband". There was no attempt made to hide her stare as she assessed him.

Erik was a tall man, which had been her first impression of him when he'd woken her up. Tall, and wearing a black suit- his dress made him completely out of place when compared to the other men, they had been wearing white and beige robes.

_'Those other men…'_

How had Erik done that? How was he able to switch so easily from the soothing presence she'd met that morning to the sinister threatening force that had roped that other man's neck? Which one was the real Erik- both, or neither?

God, she knew nothing about him!

Christine felt Erik move towards her, felt his hand settle over the curve of her shoulder. She fought the urge to cringe away from him. He knelt down beside her and Christine vaguely wondered about his mask- it was black plated metal, covering his entire face, from forehead to chin. The mask had the molded features of a human face, though it gave her the vague impression of a stage character.

'_Vaudeville._'

Christine could see Erik's amber eyes behind the mask, and the question of why he wore such a thing died on her tongue. She couldn't afford the risk of upsetting him- he had told her, and she had just witnessed the truth of his words: Erik was all she had. It was unnerving, but she decided to ignore the mask, and that seemed to be what Erik wanted all along- she resolved not to mention it until he brought it up.

His intense eyes bore into hers, "Christine, please do not fear me. Everything I have here is yours to enjoy. I only ask that you treat me as a man, while I will do all in my power to protect you. You are safe if you stay with me."

Christine looked back into his eyes and wrestled with herself- to appease him, she must deceive him. She had been raised to honesty, but knew that there were times when honesty could easily lead to more danger than lies. She determined to behave submissively, make Erik believe that she trusted in him and his promise to bring her home.

In this strange man, Christine sensed a definite loneliness, and knew that it was a weakness. It turned her stomach, but Christine knew that she would have to cater to Erik in order to get what she desperately wanted. She had to do whatever it would take to go back home and escape this palace of a prison.

Inwardly repulsed, Christine put her hand over the hand that Erik had laid on her shoulder. She looked into his eyes. "I'll stay with you, Erik, if I can trust you to help me,"

Amber eyes widened behind the mask and she heard just the softest intake of breath. He turned his wrist and took her hand into his own, almost as if to reassure himself of her presence. He held her hand softly, and went so far as to stroke it with his thumb- he seemed mesmerized by the simple act, but she couldn't understand why.

"Yes, I will do everything it takes to win our freedom from this place." He turned to look at the plate of food on his desk that had been left by the young servant girl. "Eat, Christine. I'm sure that you must feel ravenous by now."

Christine stood up from the chair and went over to the platter. "Aren't you going to eat some of this?" She asked once she saw that Erik had settled away from her, perching instead at the sunny window bench. It was strange to have his mask reflect the light at her- Erik's general manner and style of dress did not suit for sunshine.

Too late she realized that he would have had to remove his mask to eat.

Erik shook his head, "No, you need the nourishment more than I, my dear. I will feed my animals once you are finished, and then I will to take you down to the gardens…if you would like to go with me,"

Christine couldn't understand him, everything about Erik was strange. Here was a man that had nearly strangled their visitor, but his voice betrayed timidity when he spoke to her! She raised her eyebrows. '_I should be on my knees_, _thanking God that Erik_ _hasn't_ _hurt me_, she thought to herself. _He's so bizarre, though. He wants to help, or at least he says he does, but I can't trust him! I can't trust anyone in this place. Still, I am grateful for his kindness, even if it may all just be an act.'_

Christine nodded. All plans of running away had died hours ago- on the slim chance that she might actually escape from Erik and his Queen's guards alive, she would still be lost in the desert with no supplies and no way of getting back home.

Erik had been nothing short of gentle with her, and she could use the fresh air. "Yes, I'd love to,"

The black mask stared at her blankly from across the room, and Erik said nothing. Christine stifled her sobs by eating as much as she could.

* * *

An hour later, when the dishes had been cleared away by another young servant, Christine had assisted Erik in feeding the mass of injured animals he had collected into refuge. "Where do you find them all?" She asked.

"Some I find outside the palace, some in the gardens. There are those whom I must rescue from the mistress of all Tejar," Erik said as he placed fruit into a cage of desert rodents.

Christine frowned. "Who?"

"The Queen. 'Mistress' is a nickname of respect, though I do not respect her. She is the monster that brought you here to taunt me, which is why we must escape as soon as we can. If she realizes that I have never taken you as my lover, then you will be of no more use. We must put on our united front when we leave these rooms." Erik said gravely.

Christine nodded. She understood his meaning and knew that she had to do as he said to stay alive- all she wanted was to be home again…

Erik fed the last of his animals and then turned to her. "Christine, it's time. Please, will you take my hand?" He extended his hand out to her, and Christine looked at it. His hand was large, with long fingers and very pale skin. She couldn't stop herself from wondering how Erik had come to be so different from the few other people that she'd seen in this mysterious, dangerous place.

Hesitantly, Christine placed her hand into his and Erik pulled her up from the chair, and then he went to the door. He turned to look at her. "Can I trust you not to run once we are outside? It will get you nowhere but thrown into a dungeon, and I can't stop Trapoi from going down there,"

Christine only nodded. Erik opened the door and together, they stepped out of his bedchambers for the first time that day.

The corridor where Erik's chambers were located was high in a tower. They had to descend several different staircases before reaching the ground level. Christine attempted to memorize the layout of the palace, but it was all too new and too big for her to understand. Once they reached the ground floor, she gasped in shock.

The stone walls were painted with beautiful murals of war, celebrations and daily life of the people. Bright colors and fantastic figures dazzled her eyes and she looked all around as Erik led her through the palace. Christine recalled that he had called this place "Tejar". She had heard of it, but had never visited- she had rarely been off her island, only on special occasions to visit Corsica and the mainland of France.

Firelit wall sconces provided light along the way, until the corridor led out into a huge foyer that was flooded with the late morning sunlight. The murals adorned the foyer walls as well, depicting strange mythic creatures mingling with camels, lions and wild Arabian horses. It seemed to tell a story, and showed the characters of a woman, a young man and a small girl.

The murals led across the walls, all the way to the ceiling!

The murals seemed to her a blessing, a positive thing to focus on to take her mind off of her terrible situation.

Christine gripped Erik's hand tighter, "The paintings are so beautiful!" She cried. She started forward, intent to turn a corner to follow the story told in the mural.

Erik cleared his throat and seemed suddenly uncomfortable. "Yes, they are. Come along this way, Christine. It's a shortcut to the gardens," he tugged on her arm gently, but firmly enough that she knew not to argue.

Christine nodded, "Yes, Erik. Can I ask you, where are all the people? This place is so big, I would think that there would be plenty of people around,"

A subtle tilt of his mask. She wished then that she could see his face, to know whether or not he was annoyed by her questions or just amused; she longed to gain better understanding of his feelings.

She didn't want to think about it, but she needed to know how he felt towards her so that she might better be able to use his feelings for her to her advantage. It made her feel like a snake, but necessity demanded that she leave morality at the door and do whatever it took to escape this place.

"There are people in this palace- servants, the emir, his children and wives. There is the harem, and then the Queen's wing. People rarely venture to this section of the palace, Christine, because of me."

"You mean they're afraid of you?"

Erik flicked his head to the side, quickly, just once. "Not necessarily afraid, though I would understand it if they were. This is difficult to explain. The palace is very large, and most of the servants and guards, save for those who serve the Queen- they know of me, but most of them have rarely seen me,"

Christine frowned and stopped walking. Erik stopped as well to face her. "Erik, what do you mean, most of the people here haven't seen you? Why wouldn't they?"

He sighed, and worked his hands. "The Queen's servants and her guards, they have all seen me…the women of the harem saw me for the first time last night," his voice seemed to fade for a moment, and Christine gleaned sadness in his tone. "I…belong to the Queen, and she has seen fit to keep me to herself for the most part. It suits me. I'm only called before the court when I'm needed, the rest of the time I'm free to do as I wish."

"But why are you kept a secret?" Christine asked, obvious confusion in her eyes.

Erik shook his head, and reached for her hand once more. "I'm a magic novelty here, a secret weapon. I prefer it this way. Now please, come into the gardens with me. It's beautiful, you belong there."

Christine sighed lightly and allowed Erik to lead her through another short corridor that led outside. The walls opened up to reveal a Garden of Eden, lush greens and vibrant colors assaulted her eyes. The scent of jasmine tickled her senses and Christine smiled at the sight below them.

"You are even more beautiful when you smile," Erik said. She turned to him and felt her cheeks warm from both the sunlight and her unexpected flattery at his words.

"Um, thank you," she said nervously. "Can we go down there?"

Erik nodded. "Of course,"

He led her down white stairs carved into the stone of the castle, and out onto the grass. Erik glanced down to see that she was barefoot, but she seemed pleased by the feeling of the cool grass under her feet. He smiled beneath the mask- the girl was calm and as comfortable as she could be after such a traumatic morning.

Erik didn't bother to examine his feelings- he adored Christine already, he knew it and didn't want to fight it. She trusted him to bring her back home, she wore his ring! Was it so wrong to bask in this new feeling? Christine thought of him as a real man- not a magical corpse, not a dangerous monster, just a man!

Erik looked upon his wife as she stepped out into the sun and reached to brush her fingertips over the petals of a vibrant flower.

His wife! His wife!

Her eyes gained a deeper shade of green in the garden, her long black waves danced over her shoulders at the light breeze. Beautiful and delicate, yet somehow she carried an innate strength- Erik recognized the feminine mystique, this wonderful, impossible combination; he could see it in every woman, but never before had he basked so close in its presence!

Never had a genuine smile been directed to him, never had a woman willingly touched his hand; never had he imagined a woman would wear his ring!

_'My wife, this beautiful Christine Daae, taken from her home as a slave, she looked in my eyes and said that she trusted me, she allowed me to place my ring on her finger! My God, I'm trusted! I'm loved!'_

The sudden thought struck Erik in the chest with the force of a thunderbolt- Christine wore his ring because she loved him! He wasn't so caught up in his hopes that he believed Christine could be truly love him…but Erik knew she now trusted him. If given enough time, trust and friendship could grow to love.

Erik would give eternity to Christine, if she could only love him!

No one, no one had ever loved him before! Not even his horrible mother…he wanted to break down and weep, throw himself at her feet and kiss the hem of her skirt!

Erik could do nothing; he was struck down by the thoughts racing in and out of his mind. Christine knew nothing of his face, but she had not asked after his mask. It could be that she still feared him, but Erik knew that he could ease her fears, so long as she never saw his true face…

Erik knew that he could never show himself- Christine would become frightened, disgusted by him if she ever saw him unmasked. He couldn't take seeing that expression cross her features. But then, if Christine never saw his face, he would never know her kiss…

Well.

He had a wife to call his own; a beautiful wife, at that! Someone who trusted him, depended on him, someone who he had made smile. It would be enough…

_'Enough! Enough of the mask and the fear, you've taken Christine to the gardens, enjoy her happiness and warm yourself in her smile. Your wife wishes to walk with you! A kiss will remain your dream, her trust is everything!'_

Erik pulled a flower and handed it to her. "Beauty for a beauty," he said quietly. Christine smiled again and took the flower from him, slipping it behind her ear. So exotic, so mesmerizing…his heart pounded in his chest.

They began to walk down a stone path through the garden. Erik felt a sense of contentment- here he had a beautiful woman by his side, she had no fear of him, and they were together in the sun.

Erik knew this would be one of his prized, most treasured memories.

Together, they walked the path as it led them through the garden, twining through lush grass and bountiful flower arrangements, until they reached the Heart of Eden- a great stone fountain. Christine skipped forward with sudden energy and knelt at the water's edge. The fountain was a magnificent piece- Erik had been the mind behind the design. It was of a large radius, nearing 15 ft from the rim of the fountain to the great statue centerpiece.

Christine knelt on the rim of the fountain, leaning over to the water below. From his place away from her, Erik admired the arch of her spine and the curve of her backside. Christine possessed a body whose delights he would never know.

The wild black waves fell over her shoulders, tempting Erik. His eyes lifted from the living girl to the fountain's center statue. He had been adamant to have his way, back before the Little Sultana…he'd once had the power to demand things as he saw fit. The statue was a nude woman reclining atop an oversized seashell. Her arms were open, as if to beckon a lover, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

'_I was Pygmalion when I carved your beauty from stone- but I will say goodbye to you now, my Galathea. I have Christine now, and she can give me what you cannot: a smile, a warm hand, conversation…I'm sorry, but I adore her! She wears my ring and holds my hand! Goodbye Galathea, may you find your way to the sea…'_

Erik turned his eyes back to Christine then, and stepped closer. She had reached down to the water and was toying with the petals of one of the floating lotus flowers. She looked up at him. "This place is magic. I have a great garden at home, but it's nothing compared to all this," she said, waving her hand to encompass their surroundings.

He looked upon her. Clad in deep violet silks, Christine was an ethereal beauty, an angel trapped with him in the palace that had so long been his hell. Erik wanted to reach out and touch her- to hold her hand, brush his fingers over the gentle curve of her cheek. She was his wife, wasn't she? Couldn't he be granted the barest of husbandly rights?

_'If she recoils from me, I'll never touch her again…but, what if she would allow my touch? Could she ever learn to welcome my hand? Long for it?'_

Erik didn't delude himself- Christine had only known him for a mere few hours, she only wore his ring for the meager protection it could provide. He was the reason she'd been taken, she should hate him. She knew nearly nothing of him and had witnessed his lethal strike firsthand.

But, she had said she trusted him, she had proven her trust. She had held his hand and taken his ring. Would she protest it if he reached for her now?

Christine smiled as she watched the large goldfish dart in and out of view under the floating flowers. Erik nodded. "You will see your garden again, Christine. You will see your home again, and I'd love to hear more about it."

Christine sat down on the fountain rim. A faraway look cast over her face. "It's wonderful there. It's funny, you know I never really appreciated it before today," she issued a low, bitter laugh before continuing. "I always thought it was so boring and simple, especially after my father took me to Corsica and the mainland. It's a small house, nothing special. It's far away from other houses and the center city, it faces the sea…God, I doubt anyone has even realized I'm gone," she broke down.

Erik moved to kneel before her, and took her hands in his. "Christine."

Tears flooded her eyes, setting off the vibrant green.

Was it perverse to think her beautiful, even when she cried?

"Listen to me, I promised to find a way to bring you home, and I will. Do you not trust me? I cut my own hand to save your innocence, I attacked Trapoi to keep him from touching you. Christine, you wear my ring, I will give my life to protect you!" He'd gripped her hands tightly to show her the sincerity in his words, and Christine did not withdraw.

The girl leaned forward into his embrace. Erik was surprised, but did not hesitate to hold her. She rested her face on his shoulder; he lifted a hand and tentatively smoothed it down her back. Amber eyes slipped closed once he felt her arms lift to rest on his shoulders. A hug, a simple, impossible embrace…

_'Oh Christine, you must love me!'_

He speared his fingers through the last few inches of her hair, let his fingertips slide over the silk of her scant top, and then, and then, his hand grazed over the bare skin of her lower back.

Erik felt gooseflesh rise beneath his suit, so startled was he at having touched her, at being touched. His other hand joined its partner to rest on the naked flesh of her bare waist. His mind receded, magnifying the sensation of this woman in his arms. The skin was warm and pliable beneath his hands. He could feel the tensed muscles just under her downy skin, quivering wherever his hands grazed.

He took a deep breath and waited for the hard pulse to ebb from both his chest and groin. Christine raised herself back upright and looked down on him. Erik kept his eyes trained on hers; he wanted to know her reaction to the moment of comforting intimacy between them.

He never found out what she had been about to say, for before the first words passed her lips, another voice broke into their sanctuary. "Hey there, Corpse!"

Erik twisted around and stood to his full height, partially shielding Christine from any perceived danger. One of the eunuch guards stood mere steps away, he'd been watching them for several minutes. Erik growled in the back of his throat- '_That conniving little weasel!'_

Erik recognized Tumal, one of the head guards to the harem. He was a tall, formidable warrior, but in Erik's eyes he was a nothing more than a nuisance. All of the eunuch guards hated him, if only for the attentions he drew from their Queen, but Tumal hated Erik with a passion that rivaled their mistress.

What Erik had taken from the Queen, nearly five years ago, he had also taken from Tumal…

Christine rose behind him, but Erik put out a hand to keep her from the other man's view. Tumal laughed at him. "You idiot, why bother trying to hide her? Everyone in the palace knows of your new toy. Trapoi and Kuma were only too happy to bring the proof of your little whore to the Queen."

Erik fought for control- he couldn't kill Tumal as easily as he could Trapoi. Tumal was a eunuch, no one would believe that the man had attempted to touch Christine, and that would be Erik's only claim of defense.

He thought of a better way.

"What a pity that a corpse like me is granted such a prize to enjoy, Tumal, while a head guardsman like you wouldn't even know what to do with a woman," Erik hissed. He could see Tumal's eyes narrow and Erik knew the man was reaching for his sword, perhaps to use it against both he and Christine. "Don't bother reaching for that pocketknife, you fool. I'd have you dead before the blade left its scabbard!"

"When the Queen sends you back to your grave, Corpse, I will see to it that you cannot rise again," Tumal promised.

Erik was not impressed; he was becoming more and more aggravated by the man's intrusion. He wished for more time alone with Christine. He wanted to hear more of her home and family. "Why have you come here?"

"The Queen demands that you come before her- _again_," he said with a sneer.

Erik winced at the remark; he knew Tumal was referring to the dead courtesan. The terrible act had only taken place the night before and Erik fought to keep those thoughts from his mind. The jarring reminder had bile rising to his throat coupled with a rush of shame and disgust through his mind. His heart constricted in his chest, but he dared not show a greater reaction to the taunt.

From a place that seemed far away, he heard an urgent whisper, and he felt a slight tug on his suit sleeve. "Erik, what's happening?"

He took a deep breath and turned to Christine. "That _thing_ is called Tumal, he is a guard of the harem. He came to tell me that the Queen demands our presence."

Christine's eyes widened in apprehension, "Why does she want to see us?"

Erik had no answer.

Christine reached for his arm and held him close. She was scared. Erik put his arm around her shoulders and felt a sensation that he had never truly known before. He was terrified.


	4. Secrets Of The Palace

Christine clung to Erik's sleeve as they made their way through the palace, heading deeper and deeper into the Queen's wing. Christine was afraid. Erik had explained that the Queen was both unpredictable and intensely merciless; the only pattern to her behavior was that she was always searching for new ways to humiliate and torture those that displeased her.

What tortures were there in store for Christine? Erik glanced down at the girl who walked by his side, and thought of the dead courtesan from only hours before.

_Never again!_

His adoration of Christine was a weakness; the girl would be so easy for the Queen to exploit that she might as well have a target painted over her chest. Erik didn't think that the Queen would kill Christine so soon- from her twisted perspective, wouldn't it be better to use the girl to draw out his torture? Allow enough time for him to become more attached? In a way, Erik hoped so. If he had more time, he would be able to come up with a plan of escape.

Christine was silent as they swept through the corridors- no more comments on the beautifully detailed murals, and Erik was thankful. Earlier he had worried that she might find his scene- he would not have been able to make her understand the painting.

Together they reached the entrance to the grand hall. Erik paused before the doors and turned Christine to face him. "Christine, you must listen to me. Appearances here are paramount, do you understand? If you do not behave as a slave, submissive and timid, they will see through this ruse. When we enter, keep your eyes on the floor and do _not _look up or speak unless I address you,"

Christine nodded, and folded her hands before her. She bowed her head, nearly touching her chin to her chest. Erik nodded and touched her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "Very good,"

This is what they needed to do to survive. Erik started to open the door and thought better of it. He turned to her again, "Christine… if the Queen orders me to…hurt you, in any way, or touch you, I will not be able to refuse her. I've refused her many times before, but I don't know what she will do to you if I refuse this time. I don't want to hurt you, but the woman has a sick mind. If she commands that I should touch you or…take you, I will have to obey, if only so that you and I can escape later on with our bodies still intact…I'm so sorry for all of this…can you understand?"

Her entire frame was trembling, but Christine made an attempt at a brave smile. He set his hand at the small of her back and guided her inside the Queen's hall. Erik's sharp eyes quickly assessed the factors waiting for them.

The only occupants were Trapoi, Kuma, Tumal and five of his fellow eunuch harem guards. The Queen sat, languishing on her throne; her usual expression of contempt was lit with curiosity once she observed Christine walking in slowly behind Erik.

If anything happened, Erik knew that his lasso wouldn't be able to catch the nine occupants at once. He wished for this to be a quick exchange- he would thank the Queen for her "generosity" in providing him with Christine, he would take a few of her taunts and insults, but he wanted nothing more. God, if she asked him to demonstrate what he and Christine had done the night before…

Well, Erik had other weapons than his lasso.

The two of them moved before the Queen's golden throne. Christine kept her eyes on the floor, but Erik sensed that she was just as worried as he- the Queen was, after all, the woman who had ordered Christine's capture and sentence of sexual slavery to Erik. The Queen would carry no sympathy or mercy for Christine's tears or longings for her home.

He wanted to reach to her and take hold her hand but he dared not touch her before the Queen.

Erik's eyes remained trained on his mistress. She was looking at Christine; her eyes were hard, intense. She raised a dark hand to her veiled mouth; the snake was studying the foreign girl with such penetration that Erik feared she would see right through their ploy

The hating eyes shifted to his own.

"It seems you've tamed this little island girl, Erik." Her voice had only been as icy once before, years ago when she'd told him of his sentence as her personal slave.

He stood straighter, "She was most satisfactory, my Queen. I thank you for your generosity, my reward was everything that you promised."

"It pleases me to hear that, Erik. Trapoi and Kuma have been most enlightening about how much value you put into the girl. Tell me, do you know much of her life before she was brought to Tejar?" The Queen asked.

"She has told me some things, mistress."

The Queen settled further into her throne. "Yes, she told you of the little house by the sea, did she not? And of her family, such as it is. Some distant ancestors in Sweden, none of whom even know of the girl's existence. No siblings, her mother died shortly after giving birth, her father is dead as well…but there is one who misses her. I suppose that she's told you nothing of her _fiancé?"_

Erik staggered back a step as if he'd been speared through the chest. He turned to look at Christine; he wished to demand answers from her and had expected to see her own shocked reaction, but her posture remained submissive. No, she hadn't understood the exchange. All she could hear were foreign words that meant nothing to her ears.

He turned back to the Queen. She wore a triumphant smile. "Yes, Erik. Her fiancé. She has not mentioned him, I see. Well, allow me. He is tall, perhaps as tall as you. Wealthy, I daresay that he resides on that pathetic little sandbar only to remain with her. And they do remain together- I've had my scouts keep watch over her for weeks; they made several reports where her young man has stayed overnight. He is handsome, Erik! You did not think that he would be old, or ugly or poor, did you? No! The man is a young golden god- I was tempted to capture him as well and use him for my own enjoyment."

Erik said nothing; he could only feel jealousy and disbelief spread through his mind. It could all be a lie- the Queen's next attempt to taunt and manipulate his emotions. Christine had not mentioned…but perhaps there was a reason that she had not…

He didn't want to think of it, but Christine might not be the innocent he'd immediately thought her to be. Perhaps she'd only given him her false trust in the hopes that he would deliver her back into this young man's arms!

"The sheet you bled upon was a clever ploy, my pet corpse, but useless. She is no virgin! I see that you knew nothing of her man, Erik. The two of you have much to discuss on the topic of Raoul de Chagny,"

At the mention of his name, even in a foreign tongue, Christine forgot her submissive pose and raised her head. Before Erik could stop her, Christine had spoken. "Raoul? What have you done with him? Is he here?"

The Queen ordered nothing to her guards- usually when a slave spoke out of turn, there would be immediate reprimand, either a lashing or a strike across their impudent mouth. She ordered nothing; the Queen only smiled and dismissed them from her hall.

**

* * *

**Christine didn't understand what had happened in the hall. The Queen was everything Erik had warned her of; beneath her truly stunning surface, Christine sensed her controlled, vicious nature. How could a woman who had everything be so cruel? 

The Queen had been dressed in fine silk robes, the color so stunningly emerald that she must have been clad in true jewels. A matching veil cloaked her face, only revealing her eyes. The two black orbs had gazed upon Christine, and she had felt exposed; even more so than when she met the eyes of Erik. The Queen had stared at her for several long moments before looking over to the man meant to be her master.

She hadn't understood a word of what they'd said to each other…until the Queen had mentioned a very familiar name: Raoul de Chagny.

Christine knew that it was a fatal mistake the moment she'd opened her mouth, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. The words had burst forth in reflex. She hadn't known what horrible thing to expect; she had heard so many awful reports of the Arabian people, from their ridiculous customs to the way they treat their women. Christine now knew the truth to those rumors as completely true. She had been kidnapped, stolen like an object from her home and given to a stranger to be used as a slave for his pleasure.

Christine loathed Tejar with all her heart. She loathed the Queen and the men in this place, so cut off from the rest of the world with their backwards culture. When she heard Raoul's name, she hadn't been able to control her reaction. If Raoul was here, she would have demanded to see him. She would have spoken with him, touched him, and then died inside, for, if Raoul had been captured, then there would have been no one to realize that they were gone. Once Meg and her mother realized that they had disappeared, the trail would be days cold and all hope would vanish.

But…there was still Erik.

Christine didn't know how to feel about him yet. He claimed that he wouldn't hurt her, and so far he had proven himself. He hadn't laid a hand on her in anger or carnal demand. Heat rose to her face as they walked down the corridor from the hall. He hadn't spoken a word since the Queen's dismissal.

Erik hadn't touched her; he had cut his own hand to protect her. And, he spoke French. She hadn't expected to find anyone who she would be able to communicate with, and here Erik was without even a trace of foreign accent. He had been a great comfort in the few hours they had known each other. He'd explained things to her, using no flowery words- he told her the reason that she'd been brought to Tejar, but in the same breath he'd promised no harm would befall her, so long as she wore his ring.

_The ring_.

Christine glanced down at her hand. The gold band had not moved from her fourth finger since Erik had given it to her that morning. She had thought the ring only as a symbol of his possession, a sort of visual warning against any man that might approach her. As time went on, and she spent more time with Erik, Christine began to realize that to him it meant much more.

Before giving her the ring, he'd told her that if she wore it, she would be "wed as his wife". She had assumed a metaphor. Did Erik now consider her to be a true wife? Would he expect her to be a wife in the full sense of the word? Lay with him, attend to his sexual whims?

Christine had no idea, but her thoughts wouldn't allow her to stop questioning. Why had Erik refused to take her right from the start? She didn't want to dwell on her own helplessness, but Erik was a man, in a place where women were little more than objects to be bought and disposed of whenever the man wished. It would have been easy for him to just take her body, yet he hadn't.

_Why?_

He could have done anything he wanted to her, and he'd done nothing but treat her as a guest rather than as the prisoner she was. And the way he'd behaved when he'd given her the ring!

_"You wear my ring, my wife…"_

He'd seemed so moved that she would accept it from him; she'd heard the emotion in his voice. A joy so raw that it had brought tears to his eyes!

He'd mentioned that he hadn't dreamed a woman would ever wear his ring- had he never expected to marry? Her thoughts turned to the logical conclusion: his mask. At first, she had thought he wore it to protect his identity from her, but then, they were in a foreign country, so why would he bother to hide? She was certain they had never met before.

Christine decided that she would still refrain from questioning him about the mask- no matter what he'd promised her, they were still in a dangerous place, where Christine had nothing. If she lost Erik's protection, she could be handed off to the next man, or killed. She dared not risk losing him.

The mask was strange, and Erik was stranger still, but in the end it was of no consequence. She followed him up several staircases back to his room and waited silently as he unlocked the secret door. It wasn't until he'd spoken that Christine realized she'd kept her submissive slave posture for the entire walk back to his rooms in the Tower.

He turned to her, his voice so cold that it sent chills down her spine. "Drop the act, you never fooled anyone,"

He opened the door and she hurriedly stepped into his room, Erik following close behind. Christine went farther into the space, so unnerved by Erik's anger that she braced herself for a physical attack. "It seems you understood a few words from the Queen. _Raoul de Chagny_. Who is he?!" Erik demanded. His words were clipped and brutal, forcing her full honesty in answer.

"He- he is a friend from home, when she said his name I was afraid that he had been forced here too," Christine said. She brought her hands to her chest, suddenly conscious of just how little her top covered. She hated how exposed Erik was making her feel, how vulnerable!

The tiger paced hisroom, resentful anger coloring his posture and words. He was jealous and hating every second of it. "Oh, yes, you're trapped here. It must be unbearable to be with me, you wish for your golden boy to come save you. _Raoul de Chagny!_ How handsome he must be, how noble! Tell me, my bride, what kind of "friend" is he to you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Christine demanded, her own tempter was beginning to rise.

Erik was advancing on her, his fists clenched at his sides. She raised her arms in front of her, defensively. It was pathetic; Christine didn't know what she could do if he decided that he wanted to hurt her, she was strong, but Erik was a fully-grown man, what could she possibly do to him?

He moved directly before her and took hold of her upraised wrists. His grip was firm, tight. Christine glanced down at his hands. The skin was pale and scarred; his fingers were very long and thin. Erik bent to bring his masked face level to her.

The amber eyes glowed angrily at her. "You know what I want to know, it's what I have every right to know. Raoul de Chagny, what was he to you, Christine? Was he merely… a friend, or had you taken him as your lover?"

His voice caressed the last word with mad, seductive hatred. Erik tightened his grip on her wrists, enough that she wanted to cry out. "Tell me," he breathed against her ear. "Your husband only wishes to know the truth- I gave you my promise that I would not hurt you, Christine. Tell me…"

Christine didn't know what to do- the gentle Erik had gone, and so had the enraged man of moments before. In his place was a strange, ethereal voice. The coaxing words entered her mind, slipping past the barriers of her psyche. He was somehow dismantling her from within, Christine knew it, but the amber eyes held her, and she was unable to refuse answers to his question.

Erik held her in his thrall with both his eyes and voice- he could have done anything to her, had her do anything for him, but he only wished to know if her heart belonged to another man…

"Tell me now, Christine, was Raoul de Chagny your lover…?"

Erik released her wrists and began to stroke up and down the length of her bare arms. Her skin was so warm and soft under his hands. He brought his body closer to hers, a mockery of intimacy between lovers. Erik held her in a powerful trance, and didn't intend to release her until he knew. The trance only grew stronger as the moments went by, and Christine was too drained to craft any more lies.

"Yes," she breathed against him.

Christine thought she heard a low, wounded moan, but it seemed so far away…the amber eyes became bright with tears, but his gaze did not waver. Erik kept his hold over her mind with an iron fist.

"When?"

This was no longer about his jealousy- Erik would ask her, because he no longer trusted what she told him. Christine had never mentioned a man that would miss her on the island! She hadn't breathed a word of a husband, a fiancé or any close friend!

"Almost one year ago, on my 20th birthday," Christine said. Her own eyes had gone glassy; her expression was blank as she answered him. The voice with which she answered was flat, and spoke only truth.

Christine's past tore him apart, but Erik had to know if her heart still beat within Raoul's chest. He'd had a small hope that she could begin to trust him, and in time come to love him- he would have been forever grateful, even if her affection was only a mild itch in her heart, and not the burning passion that he now held within his own.

His voice was a whisper against her ear. "Was it only that one time?"

"Yes," was her whispered reply.

The girl had surprises at every turn. "Why only once?"

"We realized the mistake we had made, and never made love again,"

"Made love…you loved him, this Raoul?" Erik asked. He prayed for her indifference to Raoul, even hatred. If she still loved him, Erik would have no choice but to keep his promise and bring her home- bring her back to this Raoul, and be forced to watch the two of them kiss upon reuniting. The thought twisted his heart.

"We thought we were in love, we were wrong."

There was a long pause before his next question. "Christine, how do you feel about your Raoul now?"

"I do love him, he is one of my closest friends."

"And…how do you feel about Erik?"

"Erik is strange but has been so kind. I think I can trust him, I need him to bring me home."

_So, that's all I am to her- a ticket back home. Could I ever be anything else to her? It's only been a day, just a mere few hours! Yes, she doesn't love this Raoul, she only wants to return home- and I will go with her, I will bring her back home and we can build a life together! A life of art and music, there is so much I could show her, so much to teach her. I can give her everything, while she can only give me my one greatest wish…_

Erik broke eye contact with Christine and stepped away from her. She remained entranced for a few moments, but Erik watched as she blinked rapidly and shook her head to sweep away the confusion.

The emeralds were clear again, and she looked at him. "What just happened?" she asked as she blinked rapidly.

Erik smirked to himself behind the mask. He had learned early on that his voice was a great manipulative tool; he'd used it to draw animals near when he was younger and wanted a friend. It was how he'd befriended the fox that he'd once kept as a pet. When combined with his eyes, he was on a level with master hypnotists. The Queen often delighted at forcing him to hypnotize enemies into killing themselves before the court. For her, it meant endless entertainment, while Erik's self-loathing only grew.

Erik had stroked Christine's arms only because he knew that she would not have allowed it otherwise. He shouldn't have done that, he knew it was wrong to take advantage of her while she had been under his spell, but he had needed a way to soothe the both of them.

He shrugged. "I'm sorry, Christine. I believe that the heat is getting to you; perhaps you should lie down for a little while. You go rest on the divan, I'll bring you a glass of water," Erik took her hand and directed her towards the velvet fainting couch that rested against the far wall of his room, beside the desk.

He poured a glass for her and glanced at the small table that was beside the bedroom door. There was a parcel resting atop its glass surface. Erik set the crystal pitcher aside and went to find what was inside. Every so often, when one of his suits would wear out, another would be sent to him. This parcel was smaller than those that held his clothes.

Erik only glanced inside at the white material within and decided that the contents had not been intended for him at all. Every one of the servants knew that he was never to wear any color other than only the boldest of blacks. It had been an order from the Queen herself- she had created such a stunning character out of Erik to ward off her enemies that certain measures were taken to keep up the pretense.

"There is a fresh garment here for you," he held it out for her. "You can change in the closet,"

Christine took the parcel from him and headed off into the closet while Erik set her water on the desk beside the divan and then poured himself a glass. The day had worn on him as well; receiving the gift of a wife had been a dream far beyond reach for so many years, and now the reality of his deepest longings was only steps away.

Erik heard the closet door open and he turned- then he stopped.

The late afternoon light was filtering in through the window slats, painting Christine in stripes of shadow and sun. The garment delivered by the servants was a gown designed for seduction. It might have been another cruel trick devised by the Queen to have her wear such a thing, but Erik didn't care.

It might have been Fate repaying him for hypnotizing Christine, for Erik was now trapped in thrall just as she had been.

The gown was sheer white gossamer, so thin and delicate that Erik feared it would blow from her body at the slightest of winds. Flowers of lace cupped Christine's generous breasts, while the rest of the gown fell open to reveal the naked skin of her stomach and legs. Her femininity was shielded from his eyes by lace undergarments. The gown was indecent, ethereal- meant to tempt a man by a combination of gentle innocence and exposed wantonness.

He felt the blood drain from his face and collect in his loins. Erik had been tempted by her before: when he'd first seen her asleep in his bed just that morning, when she had come alive and smiled in the garden, but this…!

There had once been a time when Erik had made himself believe that he was beyond the temptations and longings for human companionship- he'd written himself off as no longer part of the race, and humans were simply pawns used for personal gain.

What a fool he had been!

He was a man, despite all appearances, and he had longed for a friend most of his life; a friend, a companion…no man is an island, Erik knew this, no matter how badly he wished to fight the truth.

The lush green of Christine's eyes held him, and her full lips quivered into a false smile. She seemed upset, but was trying to hide it. His hands ached to reach out to her, to touch her hair and face, her body… _Don't do it, Erik_…

Erik cleared his throat with a great amount of effort. "Ah, Christine, go ahead and rest on the divan. Your water is there. I think I'll go out for a bit, just to speak with some of my servants, and then I'll-"

Christine flew across the room, "No, Erik! Please no, don't leave me here alone, anything could happen to me while you're gone! Those men might come back, what if _she_ sends someone here to hurt me?"

Erik was taken aback by the forceful return of her fear. She clutched at the lapels of his suit, her hands like iron. He took a step back and pulled her hands from his jacket. He had to calm her. "If you wish, Christine, I will stay. Go to the divan and rest yourself. I understand everything that you've gone through today- waking to find yourself here in this strange place, I know what a shock it has been to you. Please, you need to rest," Erik guided her to the sofa and gently forced her to sit.

He stepped back and watched in strange amusement as she arranged the long wings of the gown around her. Christine hated showing so much of her body to him, but she said nothing of it. She trusted Erik not to touch her.

Christine took a deep breath and moved her black waves over one shoulder to ease the heat on her neck and back. The water was sipped, and the body relaxed. She closed her eyes briefly and took several deep breaths.

Erik settled into one of the chairs across from her. He leaned back and tried not to be obvious in watching her. He knew that the mask was a question in her mind, and he would have to answer her soon.

"Erik,"

"Yes?"

"What do you do here?"

"Do you mean, as an occupation?"

"Yes- I want to know the reason that you're in Tejar," Christine stated plainly.

Erik touched his dark hair. _Where to start?_

"Originally, I came here from Paris, hired on by the emir as an architect for the royal court. I designed the additions to this palace and many of the more functional buildings throughout this country. That fountain in the garden, I designed it."

Christine smiled, "It's beautiful, Erik. We don't have things like that where I'm from. The island is a simple place, too simple I think. But, if you are an architect, why does the Queen seem to hate you?"

Erik sat down in a chair across from her. "She does hate me. It's been five years since she enslaved me."

Christine started up from the divan, "You're a slave, Erik? But, they allow you your own room and servants- you walk the palace freely!"

He raised a hand in a gesture for her to calm herself. "I am still the court architect and chief designer, Christine. I am still a magician and artist…but it's been five years since she enslaved me into her private service. You see, the emir was not the only child of our Queen. There was a daughter. A beautiful, bright child. Are you shocked? It surprised me as well, to find that a girl so wonderful had come from such a wicked, vile womb…"

Christine leaned forward and took Erik's hand. He laced their fingers and she did not object.

"I was preparing for the girl's 15th birthday celebration. A fireworks display. There were no fireworks here, and so I had to create my own. There was…an accident in the laboratory that I'd used to create these wonderful displays. She had gone searching for me in the little lab room, she was there when it happened- all the factors pointed to her having tinkered with the chemicals. Nazahah, the princess, the Little Sultana…she was terribly burned. I was able to save her from the fire, but she was so horribly damaged from the blast and debris…"

Erik paused. It was not in his nature to relive such horrible memories over and over again. He had few happy memories to cling to, and a library of misery in his mind. Christine slid off the divan and knelt on the floor before him. She gripped his hand tighter; she put a reassuring hand on his knee. Christine could feel the muscles of his leg tense under her hand- it pleased her, in a way. "Please, Erik, tell me,"

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and forged ahead. The girl only wanted to know why he was hated so, what terrible thing he had done to deserve the Queen's endless torture. He had not withheld from her yet, and he could not start now if he wished to gain her trust, and someday, perhaps her love.

"Her face and body were burned so badly, but she was alive, just barely. Nazahah had lost her sight and was in constant, horrible pain. The emir had brought in doctors from all over the world, but none could restore her to full health- they could only ease the pain, which was a blessing. I never left her bedside, I watched over her for weeks, but nothing I did was of much help. She died holding the Queen's hand."

Christine's eyes shined with unshed tears. "Oh Erik, I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault. It was my own. I should have been more careful; it must have slipped my mind on that day. I hadn't locked the door to the lab. I should have been there, not painting for the harem. I was distracted- there was a courtesan I'd met in the gardens, I'd come to care for her. I just wanted her to have a drawing of mine, I just wasn't thinking…"

The courtesan he'd met had barely spoken to him at all on that one occasion in the garden, but because she had looked at him with curiosity instead of fear, Erik had instantly become attached. Foolish, foolish…once it was recognized that the girl drew his attention, she had been killed. Even before she'd had legitimate reason, the Queen had enjoyed her subtle tortures.

Christine rose from her kneeling position before Erik and put her arms around his shoulders. "Erik, listen to me. It was not your fault-"

"It makes no difference. Her death is on my hands, and the Queen has enslaved me as the punishment for allowing the death of her only daughter. She was a hateful woman before, but in her eyes I have stolen her only happiness- she is mad with sick rage and power. Since the death of our princess it has been a myriad of death- my lynch has claimed many lives, Christine. The Queen allows me to live only as her Death Angel, by breaking the necks of traitors and open enemies. By crafting torture chambers and brewing poisons…I am the monster of Tejar, Christine…I am sorry,"

Christine didn't know what she could say. There were no words to respond to all that he had just told her! He had killed- broken the necks of countless people just to save his own. She couldn't move, her arms remained around him, her face hidden from his view. He could not see her shock and revulsion at all he'd told her. A tear slipped from her face and landed on the cheek of his mask.

In her arms, she held a killer, a master of death!

Erik pulled himself free of her now numb embrace. "Yes, I am a murderer. I will not lie to you. Blood coats my hands, the blood of other killers, the blood of rapists and I know, the blood of innocents. The Queen is as mad as she is beautiful- nothing pleases her more than to watch me torture and kill."

Erik laughed bitterly and gripped Christine's hands in his. "She taunts me with anything she can think of, she only gave you to me because she knew that I would be tempted by you. You are beautiful, and we share a language that no one in the entire palace can understand. I will not lie. I desire you, Christine. My God, what man wouldn't? Do you know that you are the only woman who has ever slept in my bed?"

Christine shook her head- she couldn't understand why Erik was telling her any of this. "Erik, what are you talking about? If you were the court architect-"

"I am still the court designer!" Erik leapt up from his chair and began to pace erratically. "I am a slave only to the Queen- my power within the courts as a magician and artist has only diminished in her eyes. She can torture me all she likes, it doesn't matter! You cannot kill what is already dead!"

"Erik, stop it! What on earth are you talking about? You aren't making any sense!" Christine cried.

Her outburst caught his attention. "Oh! Christine, I am sorry! I never meant to tell you any of this, my God, what you must think of me…I am sorry. I've just never had anyone to talk to, you see. How pathetic I am, I should never have said anything. But now you know why the Queen hates me- I killed her daughter."

Christine reached up and put her hands out to cup his masked face in her hands. "But it wasn't your fault!"

"The Queen cares not, nor will she ever. I am the target at which she directs her furious grief. Every time she has a nightmare, or even a daydream of Nazahah, I am called to her hall for some new torture, some new humiliation. I will not let her corrupt you, Christine," Erik turned to her and retook her hands into his shaking grip.

"I will not let her hurt you. I have an idea of when we can make our escape. I won't have my last actions be those of cowardice or guilty compliance. I will bring you home, Christine, if it is the last thing I do!"


	5. Sleep With Me

Erik panted, overwhelmed with the flood of adrenaline to his senses. He reeled in his shock- he had never meant to reveal so much to Christine, and now she knew everything! God, the humiliation! The shame! The words had burst forth from his lips, he'd forced his pain and anger onto her- why?!

He couldn't understand why, after so many years of relative solitude, he had told every pain of his life to the girl. Perhaps the answer was in the question- he told Christine everything because she was the first who was willing to listen. Still, his wife now knew that she had wed a murderer.

Erik's shoulders slumped and he turned away from her. "I am sorry Christine, I don't know why I've told you so much. Forgive me…please, go to the divan and rest. I'll leave-"

Christine put a hand on his shoulder and he turned to face her, though he couldn't meet her eyes. "No, Erik. This is your room, I won't ask you to leave your own room because of me. I'm sorry for all that you've suffered. You have…killed before, for the Queen. I understand that, but nothing you could say would make me believe that you enjoy it. You've been kind to me, and you nurse all these hurt animals back to health," Christine gestured to the cages littered about the floor. "That's _not_ what an evil man does. You don't fit into this place, Erik. You've done truly evil things, but I want to believe that in your heart, you can be a good man."

Erik felt a shudder pass over him at her words and he looked into her eyes- he saw both truth and sadness in the emerald depths. Christine could see in him even what he could not- potential for good! Was it even possible? Yes, if Christine wished for his goodness, he would not fail her. Erik would repay her for the hope and brief happiness that she had given him by taking the first step toward redemption.

His heart thundered with renewed purpose. Erik would keep his promise to bring her home, he would lead Christine into a life of beauty and music, teach her all that he knew, and learn from her what it would take to become worthy of her love.

He was suddenly overcome and could no longer hold back. Erik reached for Christine and brought her into his embrace. His arms slipped around her slender frame, enveloping her in his blackness. Overwhelmed, Erik touched the lips of his mask to her temple in place of a true kiss. "Thank you," he whispered.

He did not know if Christine heard him, but he expected that she would understand what her hope meant to him.

Christine drew back from Erik's embrace. Her eyes were shining with emotion and her face was pale. She put her hands over his shoulders, while his grip remained steady on her waist- he didn't want to let go. Erik had gained his first tastes of physical affection- a smile, an embrace, holding hands- and he'd found that it had the effect of an appetizer; he was now constantly hungry to touch Christine in some small way, or better yet, to have her willingly reach to touch him.

"Erik, you said you were an artist?"

He was surprised at the question, but happy to move away from the dreadful, blood-soaked words that he'd forced upon her ears. "An artist, yes. I can sculpt, design…sometimes I draw or paint tapestries for the harem and the emir, or build toys for the royal children…"

Christine drew further back from him. "You can draw? Would you draw my picture?"

Erik's heart leapt. The stunning, complex beauty of the girl had awakened his artistic senses from the moment he'd seen her asleep in his sheets the night before. He'd had a thought to draw her, if only a simple sketch to remember her by, but so many things had gotten in the way of a session...

Christine moved to sit down on the divan, careful to fold the wings of the gown about her, shielding her exposed body from his eyes. It was useless, but she tried anyway.

"I would be most honored to draw you, Christine." Erik stood over her, his hands clasped together before his waist, forming a black V with his arms. The mask tilted slowly to the side, casting shadow over his eyes even as he watched her.

Christine looked up at him, and he went very still. She felt for a moment that she had been trapped in the room with a mannequin. Finally, she heard a soft intake of breath, a small gathering of nerve.

When Erik spoke, his voice was low and very quiet. "Tell me, when we escape this place, will you allow me to paint a full portrait of you?"

It was a loaded question, hinting at his wish to spend time with her once they were free from Tejar and the Queen's hold. Christine looked up at him, and swallowed. "Erik, if you bring me home, you can paint me forever."

His eyes gleamed behind the mask and he turned to retrieve his sketchbook.

* * *

Erik directed Christine's pose. She lay on her side, staring off to her right. He'd insisted that she remain in a relaxed position to keep from cramping her muscles. The gown's wings wrapped about her body, creating a sheer barrier against his eyes, blurring the lines and details of her form. Still, Erik was able to sketch the shape of her long legs and the flare of her hips with a practiced hand.

The waning sunlight caught the tiny crimson jewel in her navel. Erik ignored it. It had been over an hour when he had set down his large pad and announced, "All right. That's enough for now,"

Christine broke her pose and smiled. "Let me see?"

The mask swiveled from side to side as Erik shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Christine. Don't worry, though, I'll show you when it's finished. It still needs color, and then I'll seal it. You might even want to frame it when you return home."

She stood from the divan and stretched her arms. "Have you thought of any ways to escape?"

He nodded. "Several. There is a celebration in a few days, Tejar's day of independence from Tunisia, perhaps 300 years ago. _Colaca_, they call it. Such fools they are! The Tunisians were only too happy to be relieved of this bit of wasteland- I've heard tales that the Tunisian leader of the time actually placed one of his prisoners into the position of Tejar emir as a punishment! Yes, Colaca would be the best time to leave- when the people here are so caught up in their wine and the displays I'll create that they won't notice when we disappear."

Christine folded her arms and thought over his words. They would escape this place together, and then what? Jump back into her old life as if nothing had happened? Return to fishing, swimming and planting? Her life had been altered, and Christine would not return home as the same person that she'd been when she had been taken.

Erik would be with her, and she wondered about him. Did he have a home outside of this palace? A family, a friend?

Christine didn't know how things would be when they escaped together, and she couldn't fathom Erik's escape plan- her only hope was that they would make it out alive. Erik set aside his large sketch, careful to keep the drawing away from her eyes. Darkness had claimed the desert. "It's time for sleep, Christine."

There was an element in Erik's voice, something intangible and wonderful that removed doubt from Christine's mind. She had come to trust him, at least a little, after all that he'd done for her. She knew that this life must be horrible for him, if everything he'd told her was true. He was a slave to that evil woman, humiliated at every turn. Erik was trapped there, just as she was.

Christine nodded at Erik and then moved to lie down on the floor beside his bed. "What are you doing?" Erik asked. She turned, uncertain.

"I was…you said that it was time to go to bed," she said, moving up to sit with her back against the edge of the bedframe.

The masked man stood across the room, the blank eyes of the mask staring at her. Erik had crossed his arms, his voice was amused. "I did not mean for you to sleep on the floor, Christine. You are my wife, not my dog. You will sleep in the bed."

Christine knew her cheeks were bright at how foolish she must look, sitting there on the floor. "Are you sure? But where will you sleep?"

"The floor."

Christine started at his words, and then laughed. "What! Erik, you can't sleep on the floor, you just said it was for dogs."

His posture was stiff, and he clasped his strong hands before him. "You know the truth about me now- I am a killer, lower than any mongrel you could find in the streets. You will sleep in my bed, and I will sleep on the floor. It's what I did last night, and I will do it again."

His statement cleared the smile from her face, and Christine felt her heart sink. Erik hated himself. He was her protector, the only friend she had. She shook her head. "No,"

"No?"

"No, you are a man, and I don't want you sleeping on the floor like an animal." Christine said. A hole had opened in her heart when Erik spoke of his past, and it tore ever larger when he debased himself. Christine rose to sit the edge of the bed, but she kept her eyes on his.

He was so amazingly unhappy…

Erik was guilty, shamed and lonely- Christine understood him better now, but the wounds of his past had cut deep into his soul, perhaps scarring it beyond recognition, but not beyond repair.

The man was strange, but in the back of her mind, and though she refused to admit it, Christine was fascinated by him. She wanted to know more of Erik's past. There would be no answers until Erik gave them, Christine knew this.

There was no one else that she could ask- and she dared not attempt to badger him. She didn't wish trying to force answers from him; in a way, Christine wanted Erik to come to her. Erik had said earlier that he had never had a friend to talk to. Christine wanted to be someone worthy of her strange companion's secrets.

The man raised his masked face. "Then where, Christine?"

She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. "You deserve the bed."

A long silence, a quiet question. "With you?"

The man stood far from the bed, an imposing black statue. Erik didn't move an inch, his frozen face stared hard into hers, scrutinizing her expression, testing for any sign of disgust. Erik didn't know why he'd uttered such a remarkably stupid suggestion- it was the height of idiocy, and he kicked himself for it.

_'What possessed me to ask her for such a thing? Christine has suffered enough, and yet I dare ask to sleep beside her…but we are wed now, and this would be our wedding night. She wears my ring! I would not touch her, but oh, to hold her in my arms if she would allow it…'_

Christine's mind raced. She had not abandoned her plan of deception, despite her pity for Erik's past. Though she felt sorry for the man, she could _never_ lose focus: she was trapped in Tejar, nothing more than a slave- death and torture were only as far away as the Queen's whim and her only hope for escape was Erik. If he believed that she trusted him, accepted him as no one else ever had, then she was that much closer to getting home.

Christine knew that women were able to seduce men into giving them whatever their hearts desired- she only desired to go home, and to do that, she couldn't refuse Erik anything. She could do it, couldn't she? Erik only wanted a friend, and he had assured her that he wouldn't force her to give him more than that- but what if she were to offer it to him freely?

'_Yes.'_

"Come to bed, Erik," Christine breathed as she shifted further back into the sheets, creating space for him. Her heart was thundering, unsure of how to gauge his reaction- the mask made it impossible. Erik stared at her for a long time. He did not move and he did not speak. He was a statue.

Christine panicked when Erik suddenly turned and stalked into his closet, closing the door behind him.

_'Oh God, he's seen right through me! He knows! He must be furious, he'll drag me back to the Queen- there's no telling what she'll do to me now…!'_

Christine remained in the bed, shivering with dread. The door to the closet opened quietly across the room. She looked up. Erik stepped out, sans suit. He had exchanged the heavy brocade for a light set of silk pajamas- black on black, of course. Erik was barefoot, and his hands had come together again before his waist.

The full mask remained over his face, and as he came closer she could see his amber eyes again. "You are sure of this?" He asked.

Christine nodded.

Erik cleared his throat. "Very well. My word remains- I will not touch you, Christine…I do have one small request. You agreed to wear my ring and be my wife. I won't take your body, but would you let me hold you? It's all I want,"

She hadn't known what she'd expected, but simply being held was far from it! Christine couldn't resist such a small, pathetic plea- to refuse Erik of the one thing he wanted would be a setback, a large step backwards that Christine couldn't afford. "Yes, Erik, it's all right," she said softly.

Christine didn't want to let him know how tense he was making her feel. Erik's wild moods and confessions had changed him in her eyes, but he had calmed down considerably after she'd allowed him to sketch her. He was nearly back to the gentle man that she'd met that morning, the man who vowed on his own life to protect her.

She sighed lightly, too exhausted to agonize over whether or not she could fully trust him not to take her in the night. Christine's mind was weakened, as was her body. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she had laid down in the bed. The long day had finally caught up with her.

Christine's eyes never left his as Erik hesitantly slid in to lie beside her. He was tense, his mask staring straight up to the ceiling. It occured to her that he might not even know how to touch her without seeming vulgar in some way.

'_Remember, he can bring you home_,' Christine thought. She took initiative then, and moved in close, resting her head on his chest and bringing her arm across to cup his opposite shoulder. Christine could hear the soft intake of breath behind the mask, but suddenly she didn't care anymore how shocked Erik might be at her behavior.

Christine no longer cared about anything. She was here, trapped in a dangerous place, stripped of her dignity. She had no identity here- Christine Daae no longer existed. She was only a body to these people and nothing more. Her value rested solely on her appearance, and thanks to Erik's golden ring, to all others she appeared as his wife.

_'I am nothing and no one, only the wife of Erik, the murdering slave of the queen…'_

Her guard slipped, Christine craved only sensation for her comfort. Erik was strong and warm; he promised that he'd protect her. Christine felt safe as she clung to him and was asleep in minutes.

Erik listened to the deep even breathing beside him. He could feel Christine's breasts pushing lightly against his side with each breath. Light puffs of air tickled his exposed neck. His body was tense with the insecurities that had plagued him all his life, and yet he was as close to being happy as he could ever remember being.

'_A woman who wears my ring, a beautiful wife in my bed! God, Christine, you've given me more happiness in one day than I've ever been granted in my entire life.'_

Erik lifted his hand and stroked the arm that Christine had curled over his shoulder. She was bare but for the pure white lace that covered her breasts and sex, Erik was all too aware of it. Her body was long and hot, burning against him. He wished for her to be naked, and he wished that he was naked as well, so that he would know the feeling of her bare skin against on his own. Bizarre thoughts- he had spent so much of his life in hiding behind masks and full dark clothing; to wish for nudity seemed absurd.

It was only a thought, but a thought that his groin fully agreed with- he could feel his body swelling in arousal, reminding him that Christine had been right: he was not a dog, but a man.

_'Even this corpse had once been a man.'_

Erik swallowed. It would pass, or at least he hoped. He had never slept with anyone else before. There was a time when his pet fox, Volpe, had slept at the foot of his bed when he was a boy, but never a woman! His own mother had refused to stay with him when he'd been sick even as a child. Erik brought his other arm around Christine's waist, stroking over the deep curve- from just below her breast, to the flare of her hip.

_'My sleeping beauty, my wife…God, I tried so hard to escape this weakness, but in a day you've snared me. You don't know that it is a corpse who loves you, it's not your fault that you've been brought here as a slave for my pleasure. I will return you to your little house by the sea, or if you are not happy on your simple island, I will take you wherever you wish, anything you want! Say the word and I will whisk you away, anywhere in the world, and we can be happy together…'_

Erik held Christine close, and continued his idle stroking, but sleep rarely came easy to him. However, tonight, his thoughts were not plagued by visions of the blood he'd spilt or the painful memories he'd suffered due to his looks- rather, he sighed with a smile, and envisioned the things he could give to Christine, the things he could teach her, and the joy she could bestow upon this unworthy man with just her smile.

* * *

Dawn broke over the desert, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, unique to Tejar, unseen anywhere else in the world- or so the emir liked to think. He was a young man, not even entered into his 30th year. Like so many of the men in Tejar, his skin was a deep bronze, his hair and skin blackest ebony.

He carried himself proudly- what king wouldn't?- as he walked through his palace. His true name was Ismat Ali Bandar, but only a select few dared to address him as such. To anyone else that would be given the honor of direct discussion with him, his titles were emir, Great One, sire and Desert Star…but of course, Erik was not everyone else.

The emir felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he thought of his favored magician. Erik was a master of many things- magic, design, languages…but the emir valued Erik more for his companionship than his material talents. The man was an oddity, that was no lie, for the emir had often heard rumors of Erik's refusal to wear the robes of the court, choosing instead to wear the stifling suits from his own native country.

Then, there was always the mask. The emir did not trouble himself with such things. When Erik had first been brought before the emir and his mother, the Queen, he had thought the mask as strange, but it was his mother who had been so transfixed and had ordered him to remove it. The emir remembered Erik's true face, but the image hadn't bothered him, and so he'd never treated Erik any differently.

The emir knew of his mother's fascination, and had idly wondered if she'd forced Erik to become her lover, but he had never known of the depraved cruelty that she had inflicted upon his strange friend.

Also, the emir had never believed Erik responsible for the tragic death of his sister- his mother had been inconsolable for months, and once the shock of Nazahah's death had passed, her vindictive attitude had increased tenfold. She abused her power over the girls in the harem; to relieve both her boredom and her frustration, she would often force two girls into a deadly blood match for her entertainment. The number of executions tripled, and her son had lost count of the number of royal pets that she had maimed for her sick pleasure.

Still, the emir remained ignorant of his mother's enslavement of his friend. Foolish man. The emir was largely ignorant of the goings-on within his own palace, not to mention his kingdom, but there were some rumors so grand that even he was not unaware.

His friend Erik had been given a slave, and then made the girl into his wife!

The emir had been so shocked when he heard that he'd had to see it to believe it, and so he was headed towards Erik's bedchambers now. He ignored the servants that bowed to him as he walked by, intent to find his friend and see this new wife of his.

The emir knocked on Erik's door and waited impatiently for his friend to answer. "Open up, Erik, and let me see your woman!"

The door opened slowly, with Erik on the other side, towering over the emir. As usual, he was dressed in one of his black French suits, the sapphire embroidery being the only color on his person. The false smile of the mask was no longer unnerving to Ismat, he had known Erik for several years already, and had grown used to it- certainly he preferred the masks to Erik's true face!

"Sire," Erik greeted flatly.

"Why so glum, Erik? One would think that since you now have a woman properly at your command, you would at least put a smile into your voice…unless she is very ugly, or snappish or vain…show her to me," Ismat commanded. Erik was something of a friend, but neither one of them had ever forgotten who reigned over the other.

Erik hesitated a moment, but then let his door open further and went inside, silently consenting to the wishes of the king. "She is changing clothes in my closet and will be out shortly."

The emir stepped into Erik's bedchambers and didn't bother to hide his own disapproval. "Still on and on with these animals, Erik? I had hoped that you would have given up your foolish cause by now," he said as he absently glanced into the nearest cage, only to find a large lizard inside with a bandage on its hind leg.

"Am I not allowed my hobbies?"

"No, I wouldn't say that- you are the court magician and chief designer, you outrank several of my advisors and many of the noblemen. Unlike them, I allow you to reside in the palace- do not doubt your good standing with me, my friend, but know that I will always find you strange. It's part of your charm." The emir teased, hoping to gain a joke or laugh from his serious friend.

"Why, sire! I didn't know you cared for me so- perhaps you'd like me to join your harem?"

The emir burst out laughing at the image that flashed into his mind- Erik dressed as a servant girl. It was too ridiculous!

Both men turned at the closet door that had just opened. Christine stepped hesitantly over the threshold and looked up at them. Her green eyes were wide in fear at the sight of another man in the room.

Erik took a step forward, putting himself between the girl and the king. Ismat's eyebrows raised as he heard Erik murmur something to the girl in a strange language- the king had no idea what was said, but he assumed that he was comforting her. Ismat could not help his eyes from assessing his friend's new slave.

The girl was tall, with a form more lithe than most of the women that graced the palace harem. Her slender figure was reminiscent of his youngest wife, though this girl had most unusual coloring- fair skin and bright green eyes, very rare!

Even the emir had to admit a touch of envy at the sight of Erik's slave wife. Dressed as she was now, even in a wrinkled skirt and top of violet silk, she struck him as the most desirable woman that had graced the palace in some years.

As the king, if Ismat so wished, he could demand that Erik give his wife to him for as long as he desired her- be it only for one night or one thousand…he was tempted, but he remembered the sight of Erik's true face, and thought that he should leave the girl to Erik alone.

The emir had wed ten wives and bedded all the courtesans in his harem, and there were more arriving to the palace every month- he did not need this one woman, but it was painfully obvious that Erik did.

Erik turned to him. "Her name is Christine Daae. The Queen saw fit to bring her here from an island off the coast of Corsica."

The emir nodded and looked at the girl again. She was very beautiful to him, and to poor Erik she must have appeared as a goddess. Still, even the king could see that she had not bathed in at least a day- most likely she had been taken from her home and a maid had dressed her as a harem girl, with no time wasted for grooming. There would have been no way to keep her a secret had his mother's servants taken the time to properly prepare the girl before bringing her to Erik.

The emir thought that the girl would benefit from the harem groom. "Very lovely, Erik. I'll have a eunuch take her to the harem-"

"No! Ismat, no!" Erik turned on him with the fierceness of a great panther. "She is _mine_, if you dare to-"

The king raised his hands and cut into Erik's words. "Erik, you would do well to silence yourself. You've almost threatened me; I could have you beheaded for less. I only meant to have her sent to the harem groom. Your slave wife is lovely, though she would be even more radiant once she has the benefit of cleanliness on her side," the emir said.

He could see the fire swiftly leave Erik's eyes. "Yes, of course sire. Please forgive me, I had thought that…"

"Yes, yes, I know what it is you thought. Calm yourself, my friend. I have not forgotten your face, and so I know what this girl means to you. Worry not, I will give the grooms strict orders to be very gentle with her- she cannot speak our language, can she?"

"No. She speaks only French."

"French! No wonder my mother gifted her to you, how thoughtful. Well, you are an unusual man, Erik, with unusual tastes- foreign tastes. I'll have them groom your Christine in a foreign way to better suit you. It is no longer the wedding night, but a wife's charms can be everlasting," the emir said as he put a friendly arm over Erik's shoulders.

Erik glanced at Christine, who was still standing against the wall, suspicious of their conversation. He trusted the emir and the servants of the harem- it was only the Queen and her assassins that he feared. "And what shall I do, king?"

The emir shrugged. "Well, what every man does while the women are being groomed for their pleasure. You shall work on the displays for Colaca, eat, drink, play games and before you know it, it will be time to retire and she will be ready and waiting for you in your bedchambers."

Erik had no choice but to comply with the king's wishes.


	6. The Lovers

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait in between updates, but every once in awhile the site will give me an error message when I try to upload a document. Go figure. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, read, review, you know the drill...**

* * *

The emir knew from his friend's uneasy posture that something was not sitting well with him. "What troubles you so, Erik? Not ready to be parted from your wife just yet?" 

Erik raised his head and looked at his king. The emir smiled and glanced over to the bed, where the sheets and blankets were still rumpled from two bodies sharing the night. He gave Erik a 'just-between-us-boys' wink, and smiled. "Have no fear, my friend. If you like, I can arrange her grooming in any way that you'd like. You could even watch the process, but I find that it ruins the mystery- after all, no one wants to know how something as beautiful as a sunset is made, most everyone would rather just admire it,"

Erik shifted, "No, sire, it is not that…I just, mmm, fear for her…"

The emir raised his brows in surprise and laughed, "You fear for the girl? Erik you are beyond foolish! Only you would see danger in the harem groom, now stop this nonsense- your wife will be well taken care of, not only will her body be properly prepared, but I will see to it that she is given some new clothes."

Behind the mask, Erik raised a brow. "New clothes?"

The emir looked at Erik as if he were a simpleton, "Yes, new clothes! Look at the wrinkles in her silks- am I right to assume that is the outfit that she wore yesterday?"

"Yes…"

"Very well, it is decided. The girl will be groomed and attired in a manner befitting the wife of a favorite in the royal court, and you will stop your fretting! Honestly, Erik, having a wife has made you paranoid- there is no danger here," the emir crowed.

'_No danger that your blind idiot eyes can see, my liege!'_

"Now, tell her in that ridiculous language of yours that she is to be taken to the harem," the emir said as he pulled a bell-rope to summon a eunuch to chaperone the girl. "And then I want to know what kind of display I can look forward to on Colaca,"

Erik knew that he'd lost the argument once the king turned his back and began peeking into the cages littered about Erik's room. He turned to Christine, who was still against the wall, wary of the emir. "Christine, listen to me. The king has demanded that you be taken into the harem-"

Green eyes flashed, and a sneer of distaste and anger twisted over her features. "I am _never _going to become one of his damned whores, I'd rather cut my wrists!"

Erik held up his hands. "No, he has promised me that nothing of the sort will take place. This will be for your benefit. He only wishes to send you to the palace groom, who lives within the harem."

Christine seemed to relax, but not completely. "The palace groom?"

"Yes, there you will be bathed and pampered. He also deems that you will be given more clothes," Erik said once there was a knock on his bedchamber door. The emir was a king, but even he was not beyond the simple task of answering, and so he did.

"Ah, Erik! Alari will take Christine to the groom, and you must show me your displays," the emir insisted. Alari was one of the few harem guards that Erik felt he could trust. His sister had been placed into the harem when she was a mere fourteen years old, and the Queen had wasted no time in literally tearing her apart, claiming that the harem for the grand king of Tejar had "no room for child whores".

Alari hated the Queen, perhaps as much as Erik did. "Please, allow no harm to come to her," Erik pleaded to the eunuch.

Christine's worry-filled eyes stayed on Erik as the four of them stepped out into the corridor, but what more could Erik do? He stepped to her, and took her hand in his, "Christine, your protection lays in the ring. They'll know what lays in store for them if anything should happen to you. I promise, it will be safe."

"Erik, enough! Don't keep me waiting," the emir demanded.

Erik turned to walk with the emir down the corridor, while Christine and Alari turned to walk the opposite way. He was sure that his thundering heart echoed after her.

* * *

All throughout the day, Erik's concentration was split between his work and Christine. The music he'd composed, the magic displays that he'd prepared…it was all meaningless while he was so worried. It had been the first time that he'd been separated from Christine, and his hands shook at all of the possible dangers that she could be in at that very moment. 

The Queen had spies, and so many of the harem guards hated Erik- Christine would be the perfect way to send a threatening message. _Damn you, Ismat!_ The displays for Colaca had been finished for over a week already, so why had he been called down to work on them now?

The emir was looking over Erik's shoulder as he inspected the spring mechanism to one of his softer magic tricks, one of several that had been designed with the royal palace children in mind. He ignored the king's hovering presence, his thoughts coming to reside solely on Christine- was she all right? Was she missing him at all?

Erik prayed silently for hours as he "worked" on all of the displays that no harm had fallen upon her- he knew what could happen if the Queen found out that Christine was alone, without Erik's protection. He might never see her again, or even worse, and much more likely, her mangled body would be tossed at his feet…

_'No- the emir promised no harm to befall her! As powerful as the Queen is, she is still_ only a mere woman_, and would not go against the wishes of the king…'_

The hours dragged on and on, and though Erik had finished with his work, the emir had insisted that Erik stay with him and play a few games in the royal courtyard; Erik could not refuse the king. For all of the emir's friendliness, he had inherited his mother's capacity for insults. If Erik were to refuse, Ismat would see it as a sign of disrespect, and the king could rain down a world of trouble.

So, Erik played. A board game reminiscent of chess, a game of darts, together they ate and drank and talked, until finally it was time to part company. Erik made no stops as he climbed the Tower towards his bedchamber. It would never be permitted for him to enter the harem to retrieve his wife- such a trespass would be punishable by death. He could only go to his room and wait for Christine to be returned to him.

Erik took a deep breath and stepped into his room. It was dark outside his windows; lone tea candles had been lit in the wall. He didn't see the girl- not on the divan, not in bed or at the desk. Erik sighed, and realized that he missed her. Christine was a wonderful companion, though it had been barely more than a day since he'd first seen her.

'_Christine will be here soon._' Erik shrugged out of his suit jacket and unbuttoned the shirt beneath. He was tired, and wished to be out of his suit and in the comfort of his bed.

Where was Christine?

'_My wife is beautiful already- lovely enough to draw admiration from the king- the groom should not have kept her this late!'_

Erik sat down on the edge of his bed and coughed. He looked around his room and realized something very important was missing- his cages of healing animals, they were gone! He barely had time to wonder what had happened to them all when the closet door opened.

Christine emerged slowly from the shadows and didn't stop until she was mere feet away from Erik. He couldn't speak. The palace groom had created a masterpiece- Christine was reborn in his eyes. The hair had been removed from her body; the attendant servants had massaged her skin with silver oils. She gleamed before him in the candlelight, an Aphrodite in lace.

Pearl beads were woven into her raven hair; Christine's eyes were eerily bright, their color set off from the black kohl that lined the emeralds. Lashes and brows had been brushed with ebony ink; a coat of pink stain touched her full lips.

Erik had never wished so much for a kiss as he did in that moment.

The emir's promise of new clothes had proven true, as Christine was clad in a chemise of azure lace that bared her shoulders and dipped low to show the cleavage of her breasts. She smiled uncertainly. "Do you like it?"

Her question snapped Erik from his trance and he hurriedly stood from the bed and stepped close to her. "Oh yes, very much," he assured. His hands ached to take the girl, but he couldn't trust himself to touch her, and so he ended up wringing his hands together like a guilty child.

Christine reached out to him, and Erik took her hands in his. Even her nails had been filed and polished. His gold ring remained on her finger, and Erik felt his heart swell. How beautiful she was! "You look amazing, Christine."

If they had been lovers, he would have bent to kiss her then, but Erik reminded himself to be content with just holding her little hands in his.

Her smile lost its uncertainty, and became genuine. Christine moved forward and hugged him. Erik brought his arms around her, offering what reassurance he could, while also relishing the heat emanating from her body. The enticing scent of her perfumed hair and skin reached him, curling his mind into a myriad of sensual suggestion.

It might have been his imagination, but the embrace seemed to last longer than it should have, and Christine's leg nudged him in a most interesting place just then…

She pulled from him first, and moved to the desk. Erik had not noticed it before, but a bottle of wine and two glasses rested on its surface. One wineglass was nearly empty, the other full and waiting for him. Christine retrieved both and came back to him. "Here you go, have a drink. This wine is great," she said as she finished the last drop from her glass.

Erik took the wineglass from her but did not sip. He held it up and swirled the liquid within for a moment, suspicious from the outset. "Christine…where did this come from?"

The girl didn't answer; she was staring at her gleaming silver hand. Erik set his wineglass aside and studied her. "Christine?"

He moved to her and took the wineglass from her hand, setting it on the desk. "Christine did you hear me?"

She looked up at him and Erik started- her eyes were dilated, the pupils so large and deep they nearly overtook her green irises. Her breathing was suddenly deep and sharp, panting, and her skin had become slick with hot sweat. Erik put a hand on her shoulder and felt her begin to tremble.

_'Poison! No, Christine, damn you, you will not die this way! I'll bring you home, I'll make you happy! Please hold on, let me set you down and I'll heal you…'_

Erik brought his arm around her and a strange moan escaped her lips. She could not speak, but the sounds continued. Erik scooped his other arm under her legs and carried her to his bed.

He laid Christine down, but before he could move back to have a better look at her trembling, fevered body, she had grabbed onto Erik's shirt and with an amazing strength, she'd pulled him down atop her! "Christine, what-?"

The girl writhed beneath him in dazed sexual pleasure, moaning and clawing at his back. Erik's body responded instantly once she'd raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips, grinding herself against him. Her hands pulled at his shirt, her movements frantic and urgent. Erik felt her lips and tongue at his exposed throat, moving lower as she pulled his shirt to the side to expose a shoulder.

This wasn't what he wanted; this wasn't what he'd spent so long dreaming over! Christine had replaced any other woman he could have wanted in both his heart and mind, but this wasn't how he wanted her- she was drugged with powerful aphrodisiacs to remove all reason from her mind.

Christine didn't want him, she just needed a way to climax, the only thing that would clear her mind, and she had grabbed the nearest body she could find- _his_.

Erik knew this, it was the same trick the Queen had used on him to make him mate the dead courtesan- if Christine did not find release, the potion would remain in her system for several hours, driving her mad with heated desire.

_'God, no, I can't do this, ah, no, I can't…'_

Christine's hands had torn open the front of his shirt and she had wasted no time in running her fingertips over the skin she'd exposed. Erik winced in the strange new pleasure as she scraped her nails lightly down his chest. He felt gooseflesh rise on every inch of his body. Christine made no mention of his scars, but her eyes were so glazed that she didn't even notice. Her mouth was urgent, peppering his chest with kisses, his neck, even his mask was blessed with her lips!

_'Make her stop, you can't do this, she'd never forgive it…'_

His hands were trembling, fighting the urge to both bask in the pleasure she ached to give and the instinct that tempted him to remove the lace from her body, bare her to him and take her. Her legs remained locked over his waist, fusing their hips together. Erik felt his body drowning, his own hips moving to match her pace…

'_No! Erik, stop this, you can't…!'_

The skirt of her chemise had risen in her fevered movements; Erik could feel her moist, naked sex against his own straining arousal through the material of his clothing. He began to move with her. Never before had he ever…

'_No!'_

Christine's desperate hands reached for his waistband and tugged at it madly. Still, the only sounds that escaped her parted lips were deep, husky moans, moans that he'd never heard before, so primal they spoke to his deepest self.

The self that had so long been denied by others and suppressed by his own neglect...

_His sexual self…_

Erik's body was heated, his heart pounding a drumbeat in his chest that sent the blood scorching through his veins. He wanted this, he wanted _her_. Christine touched him, destroying his protesting mind.

'_I want this, I've wanted you since the moment I saw you…you're my slave, my wife, but this isn't what you want…oh God, your hands- don't touch me, touch me more! I can't stop…'_

Erik raised his hand to Christine's shoulder; he meant to push her back down onto the bed, away from him, to put a stop to the madness that threatened to overtake them both.

'_Oh God, don't…!_ '

But Christine did.

She took Erik's hand from her shoulder and moved it down, forcing his hand over her breast. Reflexively, he cupped it, and Christine cooed with pleasure. Erik had kept his eyes closed to avoid seeing her in such a state, but at her moan, he had to look down and see her.

_'You horrible little temptress, I hate you!'_

Her eyes locked to his, her lips begging for his kiss of approval. Her expression was that of blind lust, not the love he longed to see in her eyes. Christine was encouraging him, begging without words to be taken, to be _fucked_- hard and fast, to be mated like an animal and, God help him, Erik wanted nothing more than to mount her- his woman, his _wife!_

His body demanded that he claim her in the most basic sense- before there were rings and priests of marriage, there was sex. His body demanded what Christine was offering so freely, but his conscience fought to refuse her.

Christine bared her chest to him; the hand that held her breast trembled as he felt her pebbled nipple beneath his palm. Christine cooed and smiled in her delirium, but she was not satisfied- the drug had her enflamed in a way that she had never felt before. It was uncontrollable, inhuman lust that fueled her, closing her mind to anything other than pure sensation.

She grasped his wrist as she had before, moving his hand lower, lower, over her quivering stomach and down to the apex of her thighs, forcing Erik to touch her in a way that he'd never dared. Her panting grew louder, drowning the protests in the back of his mind. She moved against his captured hand, impaling herself on his fingers.

Erik was sick with the struggle- Christine was the first woman who'd ever treated him as a man, touched him as a man, and it was all against her true will.

Her tight body quivered over his hand and the pain of arousal between Erik's legs threatened to drive him mad. His mind gave a few weak protests before finally giving in- '_I can't do this, Christine, I can't…'_

His conscience abandoned him, and desire reigned over his actions. Christine's body thrilled as Erik moved his hand between her legs, stroking the wet velvet flesh of her sex. Christine moaned and panted for him; stoking his desire to a roaring inferno- she wanted him, she took pleasure at his touch!

"Oh, Raoul, ah, mmm…" she panted against his ear.

_'Oh, Christine.'_

Erik closed his eyes as he felt his arousal deflate painfully. Christine continued to writhe against him, and he did want her, but the ice of her words doused all passion. He stilled his body and pulled from her, despite Christine's clinging hands. "No, no…" she muttered once he stood from the bed.

Erik watched Christine writhe in wanton abandon on his bed, panting and moaning. As soon as he was gone from her grasp, she began to stroke herself, desperate to be rid of the drug's effect. He'd never seen anything so sexually arousing in all his life. Erik wanted to go back to her, remove the lace from her body and drive himself between her legs.

Here it was, the girl who epitomized all he'd ever wanted: she was his wife, in his bed and she had proven herself willing to touch him. Christine was young and beautiful, more than he had ever dared to hope for…

But, it would be horrendous to take her this way, drugged and robbed of her mind. Christine craved touch, and was so deep into the red haze that she didn't realize it was the corpse who had been in bed with her moments ago. To her, Erik was only an available body, meant to relieve her tension.

Erik didn't want to be…_used_ in that way, and he couldn't use her.

Christine had said that name, Raoul. Erik thought of the day before, when he'd forced her confessions. He wasn't angry. Christine was drugged, and likely had only said the other man's name in the delirium of her desire. She didn't know where she was or what was happening.

Erik sighed at the unfairness of it all, the latest in a long line of cruel jokes played on him and felt hot tears escape his eyes beneath the mask.

_'You said you believed that I could be good. I won't fail you, my Christine.'_

Erik cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Before he could have any second thoughts, he reached for the girl and scooped her off the bed. She brought her arms around his neck and peppered urgent kisses over his exposed neck and the lips of his mask, but Erik forced himself to ignore her.

He couldn't allow his body to take over again- his mind had reigned supreme for years, and he could overcome this powerful temptation; for her sake, he had to. Christine moaned and panted, but Erik paid her no mind. He dropped her on the floor of the closet and locked her inside.

Erik stood with his back against the door for several minutes, listening to her as she continued to moan and writhe on the other side. He removed the mask and ran a hand over his sweating face. '_God, what a night!_ '

He waited for the hard pulse in his groin and chest to die down before he moved away from the door and took the bottle of wine off his desk.

A short message was tagged to the label, written in Arabic. Of course Christine wouldn't have understood what she was looking at- to her it was nothing more than squiggly lines. Anger took over the longing in his heart.

_'No woman in her right mind mates a corpse, I thought I might help your slave get through her wife's duties- feel free to ask for more tomorrow night, and every night thereafter!'_

Erik took the bottle and shattered it against the far wall. The Queen, damn her to hell!

* * *

Christine woke up as she felt something move across her face. Startled, her eyes snapped open and she quickly raised her fingers to her forehead- she had feared to find an insect, but instead she'd found that it was a bead of sweat that had begun to move down her face. The quick movements brought on a strange wave of nausea, and she groaned. Her stomach clenched in pain, her entire body felt as if it were on fire. _'What's happened to me? Where am I?'_

Her mind was not so befuddled that she couldn't assess her surroundings. The floor beneath her was cold, smooth stone. The room where she was being held was tiny, and dark. She forced her eyes to focus, and she looked down towards her feet. A thin strip of light went along the floor, coming in from the outer room. She was in a closet, but why?

Christine sat up and felt a powerful wave of dizziness pass over her. '_All right, don't move so fast, breathe, just try to remember…'_

She thought back, and remembered being taken to the harem groom. The harem had been close to what she'd expected from books that she'd read in the past. It was a grand room of tan stone walls and golden marble pillars. The ceiling was hung with bright satin drapes, and in the center of the room, there was a large fountain. The chilly floor beneath her bare feet had been peppered with many large loose pillows, several chair sets and divans rested throughout the harem. Colorful vases lined the walls, overflowing with pleasant vine flowers, and above them were tapestries of such intricate detail, Christine had felt that she could step right into them and escape this strange place.

The room itself had been grand enough, but it was the occupants that had drawn her attention. She hadn't meant to stare, but even she was not beyond the charms of Tejar's courtesans. There had to have been over one hundred women in the room; she'd seen several of them seated on the floor pillows, some seated on the lip of the fountain, and some were just strolling aimlessly back and forth.

Once Alari had led Christine into the harem, all conversation had slowed to a halt as the courtesans observed this pale newcomer with much interest. Christine was dressed in similar style to the women there, and but for her skin tone she was no different, though she sensed the other women of the harem _knew_ that she wasn't meant to be there. It was unnerving to be stared at, but she was likewise drawn to stare at them in return.

The women were all gorgeous to varying degrees, their similarities, however, outnumbered their differences. All the women in the harem possessed long black hair and dark skin tones to match. Jewels curled over their necks, ankles and wrists, but Christine was surprised to see that none of them wore rings. Their lush bodies were wrapped in silk and lace of all colors. Such beauty in such a dangerous place!

Alari, the guard who had led her there, came to the edge of the room and pulled back a large heavy curtain. The language barrier was a giant obstacle, but his meaning was clear enough, and so she stepped into the smaller room on the other side.

A large, older woman sat on a soft chair across the room and she exchanged words with Alari before she clapped her hands, summoning a few servants. Alari left the room and the younger servants motioned for Christine to come toward the older woman. '_The palace groom_,' she thought, as she stood before her.

The groom possessed a kind, grandmotherly face that was etched with lines of hard-earned wisdom. She motioned for Christine to come closer, and when she stepped in close the woman reached out and cupped her face, turning her from side to side to get a better look at her rare features. Christine didn't know what the older woman was looking for, but supposed she must have been satisfied.

From there began the most luxuriating experience of Christine's life.

She'd read about the great spas of Europe and how they offered every beauty service available known to man- surely this was as close to spa treatment as she would ever get!

Young attendant servant girls were brought into the room. Christine had tried to fight them at first, her fear and hatred unwilling to allow any strangers to even come near her. The younger girls outnumbered her, they were stronger and easily had her overpowered. They stripped her naked- Christine tried to ignore their giggling and reign in her instinct to lash out. Her anger urged her to attack the nearest servant, but she knew that she had no choice but to act passively- Erik's ring couldn't protect her from everything, and she shuddered to think of the consequences if she became violent with anyone there in the palace.

The servants stripped her naked and then brought her to a large porcelain tub where she was bathed in perfumed oils. They brought her from the bathing pool and laid her down onto a table where she was massaged.

To Christine's mind- fevered from humiliation and a strange comfort that almost bordered on arousal, it felt that hundreds of hands were on her body, caressing and teasing touches. The hands rubbed silver oils into her skin, giving it an ethereal shimmer.

Once the massage was over, the young servants smiled at her as they moved to lace her hair and paint her face.

It was strange to have so many little hands touching her, adjusting the lace chemise they'd presented to her and placing the finishing touches over her makeup. Christine was tired of being poked and prodded at, however, and was thankful when Alari returned for her, hours later. She was both exhausted and elated- she wanted to see Erik, she didn't feel safe being anywhere without him.

Alari brought her through the main room of the harem again, and Christine felt a strange delight at the admiring expressions written over all the courtesans' faces.

The beautifying treatments had raised her spirit- Christine felt refreshed and new, reborn and brave enough to face the challenges ahead.

Alari led her through several corridors of the palace, and as she walked beside him, Christine let her eyes wander to the murals painted on the walls. War, celebration and animals danced over the stone, telling a long, bizarre story. She glanced down another hallway and in the dim lighting she was able to make out a strange dark shape. She paused and walked towards it.

Christine came closer and with every step the shape became more defined. It was a man, clad in all black- Erik! There he was, a painting ten feet tall above her, but Christine gasped once she saw the painting's face. It was Erik, there was no mistaking the black suit painted onto his skeletal frame, but what shocked her was the artist's rendering of his face.

It wasn't a face, but a warped skull. The face was a garish shade of sallow gray, with malformed lips curling maliciously over sharp white teeth. His angry yellow eyes glared down at her. '_The Queen's Angel of Death!'_

His pale hands wielded the golden lasso, ensuring no mistake over his identity. Christine gasped loudly once she felt Alari's tight hold on her arm, he didn't appear pleased that she'd wandered away from him and seen the painting.

Alari said nothing as he brought her back to Erik's room, and once she was alone, Christine pondered over her "husband". Surely, that was just an imaginative display on the palace wall- Erik had told her that the Queen used him as a warning against her enemies, and surely, if he were painted as a monster, wouldn't he gain more fear that way? She thought then, of the mask, and the possible reasons why he hadn't removed it in her presence.

Could it be that Erik's face truly looked like it had in the painting? Christine didn't think so, how could anyone survive with such a face? The absence of a nose would surely have hindered their breathing, at the very least. It was possible that Erik's features had become distorted somehow- scars, burns, sickness…but surely the artist was exaggerating!

Poor Erik- he'd already made it clear how he felt about her, and he'd made no mention of his mask. He must be so lonely, so shamed by his face- he'd been so happy when she agreed to wear his ring! Christine thought over the things that he'd told her, and realized then that she was most likely one of the few people that had shown him any kindness…

Christine decided that it didn't matter- Erik was Erik, and as he had proven himself to be the only one she could trust, Christine put the matter from her mind altogether. If Erik's face was distorted for one reason or another, it was the least of her concerns; Christine's mind was still focused on using him to escape.

She coughed, but couldn't remember much that had happened after Erik came into his room the night before. Had he been the one to put her into the closet? Why would he do that?

Christine started up, but her limbs were heavy, and so she remained on the floor. The light coming in from the main bedroom was growing brighter as time went by, and as the minutes passed, Christine felt her grogginess dissipate. She looked about the closet in her boredom; irritated to see so many black suits- wasn't Erik permitted any color? Something tickled her arm, and Christine glanced over to find a bright silk scarf. She pulled it up to her face and breathed in Erik's scent.

Clean and fresh, the scarf smelt of spring leaves.

A chest had been resting beneath the scarf, and though she knew it was rude to pry, Christine couldn't help her curiosity. She unlatched the chest and gasped at what she found inside.


	7. Royal Russian Tea

Christine was intrigued and uncertain about the contents of the chest- what were these trinkets? She quietly sifted through the little mementos- a few aged photographs, an animal collar, military medals, bits of string and ribbon, broken shards of either porcelain or plaster…

From the other side of the door, Christine could hear a door open and close, and footsteps come near. She quickly replaced everything back where she'd found it within the chest, and tossed the scarf over it. _What to do, what to do?!_

Christine decided then, to play dead in the hopes that whoever it was would just leave her be. She slumped back down onto the floor, much the same way she'd been before waking up in the closet. The door opened and light fell upon her face, dazzling the eyes behind her heavy lids. She felt a shadow pass over her. "Now is not the time to pretend, Christine. Get up,"

It was Erik's cool voice floating down from somewhere high above her. Instantly, Christine's eyes snapped open and she forced herself to stand, although the act of doing so did send her into a powerful dizzy spell. She groaned, "Ugh, Erik, what's wrong with me?"

He reached for her hand and drew her out of the tiny space, into the larger chamber. "You do not remember?"

"Not really…I remember getting treated by the palace groom…coming back here and drinking some wine…then…nothing, until I woke up in there," she said, pointing over her shoulder at the closet. She hoped he wouldn't notice that the chest had been opened, she didn't want him to become upset over her snooping.

The smiling black face of his mask regarded her for several silent seconds. "Perhaps that is for the best. It doesn't matter. Their independence celebration, Colaca will begin tomorrow morning. I've been busy. Soon there will be sufficient distraction and we will escape."

Christine noticed that his voice was flat, emotionless. He stood away from her, somewhat stonily. The mask remained the same, a shining, smiling face, but it was his eyes behind the mask that made her feel as if she'd somehow wronged him. She couldn't understand why or what she could have done.

Slowly, Christine moistened her lips. She thought she heard just the tiniest of groans from him as he watched her. "Erik, why was I in the closet? Did you put me in there?"

A pause, then, "Yes. I set you in there last night. I fear that the wine made you feel uneasy, and I didn't want to risk you getting sick on the bed."

Christine's cheeks flamed, and she felt a strange touch of resentment that, rather than sit up with her, Erik had just left her alone on the stone floor. Still, why couldn't she remember anything from the night before? Fear touched the edges of her mind. What had Erik done to her that she couldn't remember?

No, no, would he...?

She dared not voice her suspicions- no matter what, Erik was still her one hope for escape. Whatever he might have done to her, she couldn't react, she had no choice but to keep with her initial plan- seduce this man into bringing her home, and only then could she be rid of him. Christine swallowed her terrified anger, and suppressed the sudden urge she had to attack him. '_Liar! Rapist! Fraud!'_

Erik's eyes held hers. He could see uncertainty there, but he hoped that she might never remember the night before, and thought it was a blessing that the drug often led to slight memory loss in women. He wished that he might have been as lucky; the dead courtesan still haunted his dreams.

"Oh, all right…what about our escape?"

Erik crossed his arms before him and the mask tilted to one side, the false smile giving her the impression of his amusement. In truth, Erik's heart was thundering within his chest, threatening to tear from his body. He'd set into motion steps towards freedom that he would not be able to reverse if discovered- there was no turning back from this course of action now, and he was determined for Christine. The plan he'd created was flawless, every step planned down to the second.

Christine might have thought him to be acting strange, but Erik had only just returned from the Queen's hall; the hatred and urge to kill still pounded in his veins. A summons had been tagged to his bedroom door that morning from Tejar's mistress, demanding him to come down to her grand hall at once.

Erik had rolled his eyes as he always did when she called him out, but rather than scramble down to see Her Highness, he'd tossed the note aside and went to the closet. Christine had been moaning and writhing on the floor for several hours that night, driving Erik mad as her body called to his own, but he had been unable to go to her again, for fear that he would lose control. So, he'd been forced to leave her in there, until her cooing moans finally ended, and she'd fallen asleep.

He'd checked in on her earlier in the day only to find her sprawled on the floor, the lace chemise pulled high above her thighs, exposing the downy triangle of hair shaped above her sex. His hand clenched, remembering how he'd touched her the night before.

_You tease me._

Erik took a deep breath and shook his head. Christine was still asleep, hopefully the drug will have been out of her system by the time she woke. He didn't want to test his strength again; he didn't know how much more he could take! Before leaving for the Queen, Erik pulled the chemise skirt lower to cover her body before he left his bedchambers.

He'd felt for the reassuring coils of his lasso within his suit sleeve and he had wasted no time on his way to the Queen. '_I'll hang her from the harem! Poison her until the skin falls from her bones! How could I have allowed her to do this to Christine? I've failed her- I should have never let her drink that wine!'_

He strode into the grand hall, not at all surprised to find the Queen resting happily on her throne, attended to by eunuchs and younger maids. One of the girls had been filing the Queen's nails, and paused to look up as Erik made his presence known.

The Queen noticed this and reared back to slap the girl soundly across the face, "You dare give that creature your attention over your Queen?" She barked.

The girl, struggling not to cry, attempted an apology; her face was already glowing with the scarlet handprint from the older woman's strike. "Enough of you damn excuses, you miserable little bitch! Twenty lashes will remind you who your master is, now get this cow out of my sight!"

A guard came to retrieve the girl, who was still muttering soft apologies.

Erik ticked his head at her. "You women become so irritable in your old age, for once I am grateful to be the corpse that I am."

The Queen glared at him, her black eyes were on fire. "Happy this morning, are we? I should think so, but what of your woman? How is she after having your hideous body forced on her?"

Erik knew that it was to be a spar of words between them, and he didn't hold back. He had his lasso, knives and a few vials of poison cloud powder on his person- if he was forced to fight, he'd made sure to be the only victor.

"I hardly had to force myself on her, mistress. She is a gift beyond all my imaginings, I could not have asked for more! I do believe that her taste for the grotesque far surpasses your own, if last night was any indication,"

"Why you insolent bastard, it would be wise that you become obedient, and quickly, before that precious slave of yours meets the same fate of your damn pets!"

Erik had only a moment to remember the missing cages in his bedchambers before the Queen rose and strode over to an ornate chest that had been resting beside her throne. With one swift movement, she tipped it between them, littering the rose marble floor with the dead animals that Erik had dedicated so much of his time to healing. All of them dead; some visibly mutilated, others had been poisoned.

He took a step back as the rat with the burned paws rolled to his feet. Erik was not surprised by what she'd done. The act was a show of the Queen's frustration with him, but it hurt him all the same. The animals had been a wonderful source of comfort when he'd felt restless and alone, and now they were gone.

_Goodbye, my little friends…_

Erik allowed his eyes to flare at the Queen, but he said nothing. '_One more_ _day_,' he thought. '_One more day, and then I will be free of you and of this hellhole. I will begin a new life with Christine, and you will NOT stand in my way!!!'_

Erik turned from the Queen, and left the hall, quickly returning to his wife, the true ruler of his heart. His mind had focused in on the plan, creating solutions for the possible problems that might arise and he made his decision on what to do with the girl.

In the end, it would come to a question of Christine's trust.

* * *

The plan was finished in his mind by the time he'd reached his door, and yet Erik was still uneasy and very disturbed. His uncertainty was not due to the escape itself, but rather, what would become of the two of them afterwards. Christine had said that she would allow him to be with her again once they'd made it out of Tejar, but would she keep her word if he kept his? 

_Yes! Christine is everything honest and beautiful and good! She promised me, she wears my ring! My wife! Christine, we will have a wonderful life once we are free of this place, I promise you…I can give you the world, the only thing I want from you is the smallest shred of your love…_

A new garment of jade cotton was brought to Christine by a young servant maid, and Erik inspected the parcel for vipers and scorpions before he allowed her to take it into the closet and change her clothes.

He retrieved the sketch that he'd began while she changed, and proceeded to dab color onto the scrolled paper. Erik smiled lightly as he dotted green into the eyes of Christine's far-gazing face. Painting was a pastime that Erik had always enjoyed, and why not? He adored art and had long agreed with the quote by Renoir, "Why shouldn't art be pretty? There are enough unpleasant things in the world."

Erik knew the truth of those words better than most!

The closet door opened and Erik covered the painting as Christine came near. "You still won't let me see it?"

"No! You should never ask to see an unfinished project, it spoils the surprise." Erik said with a smile behind his mask. God, but he adored her!

Christine shrugged at him and rubbed her forehead as she reclined on the divan. She lazily glanced over the room and noticed that the chattering, chirping animals were gone. Christine frowned, "Erik, what happened to your animals?"

The brushstrokes stopped. "Oh. I was summoned down to the Queen this morning, before you were awake. She killed them, Christine."

She felt her stomach turn over. "What?"

"I just said it! The Queen killed my animals- she is growing ever more angry with me for being happy with you. Don't you see? You were given to me as a slave, the one thing I wanted in all the world- a wife to call my own. We weren't meant to be happy here together, the idea was for you to be terrified of me, so afraid that it would drive you mad! The Queen hadn't thought that you would willingly wear my ring,"

Christine put a hand to her mouth. "But why the animals, Erik?"

He sighed. "You know it already. She killed my animals as a way of warning me that you could be next. The Queen has given to me what I most crave and admire, a beautiful young woman, and nothing would make her happier than to take you away. She'd love to restrain me and kill you before my very eyes! We _must_ escape this place."

Christine nodded and went to him, "Erik I'm so sorry to have caused all this trouble!"

At that, he could not restrain a bark of bitter laughter. "You are sorry! Christine, you are impossible- you cannot truly believe that any of this was your fault? They stole you for me and are using you as a way to tempt and manipulate me," Erik breathed. "I don't want to think about what she might do next- I'd give my life to protect yours, you know that, don't you?" He asked urgently as he took her hands into his.

Christine lifted her arms around Erik's neck and she pulled him close. "Erik, you're scaring me,"

He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. "Oh yes, I do a wonderful job at that, don't I? I frighten everyone in this palace, all but that fool king and my dear late Sultana. The Queen only hates me. I'm sorry, Christine. I'm just…I haven't slept well, and I'm worried about tomorrow,"

Christine drew back from him, "What's the matter? Has someone found out about your escape plan?"

"No. I haven't breathed a word of it to anyone but you, and even you know nothing of the plan itself! No matter, you'll find out soon. I'm just concerned over what will become of us after we make our great escape." Erik held her hands, and bowed his head slightly at the admission. He didn't know what to expect, he only wanted the truth.

Christine understood what this strange, lonely man was asking of her. Erik had had all he could take of the Persian way of life- the killing, the torture, his enslavement by the Queen.

The man could take no more, he was done.

She understood her place in Erik's mind: she was one of the few who would treat Erik as a man; she was a woman thrown into his life, who dared to wear Erik's ring and sleep in his bed. He'd said she'd been the only one…

Christine knew that Erik loved her for the simple fact that she accepted him, and because he so openly adored her, her cunning mind knew what she had to do. Christine had to play to Erik in order to escape this place, and she would not hesitate to do it.

_'I just want to go home, and Erik is the only one that can help me. Tell him everything he wants to hear, no matter what!'_

Christine was comfortable around Erik because of his endless promises that he would never harm her- she had witnessed the truth of his words. She could tell that Erik was unused to human contact- was it because he hated being touched, or because others were loathe to touch him?

Yes, Erik was unused to contact, but that did not mean it wasn't something he secretly wanted. Christine thought of the mask- his face might have been the only thing holding him back. She had touched him recently as a test, his hands and back, she'd hugged him. The smallest of gestures obviously meant the world to him, further indication of Erik's feelings toward her.

Christine possessed a sharp mind, and knew what it would take to have Erik in the palm of her hand. She had known only one man, and she was still inexperienced but in her heart, Christine knew what it was to seduce…Erik was a man, but better than the average man that she would have found in mainland France or even on Corsica, Erik had lived desperately alone and as a result he was wonderfully naïve when it came to women.

He was vulnerable, and Christine knew that she'd have to appeal to his one weakness- his desire for love. She had no wish to hurt him, he had been unbelievably good to her for the past few days- kind, gentle, and she genuinely did like him- but this was a matter of her freedom, of life and death. She could not allow herself to scruple.

_'I'm going home, and you **will** be the man that gets me there, Erik. I'll do what I have to now- I don't care what it costs me, just bring me home…'_

Christine arranged her features into an expression that Raoul had once called "every man's undoing"- it was an innocent smile, paired with passionate eyes. She reached for his hand. "Erik, nothing will change between us when we escape. I'll still wear your ring, for as long as you want me,"

She strained her ears to hear the soft groan that escaped from behind the lips of his mask, but she heard it, and knew she had him. His eyes glowed with rare joy and Erik held her hands tightly. "I'll give you the world once we escape, Christine. Nothing will be out of reach, I promise you this. Anything you want, anything!"

'_I just want to go home, Erik, please make me stop doing this to you and just bring me home!'_

Christine pulled her hands from his then, but didn't allow her discomfort to show. There could be no giveaways, or else Erik would sense that something was wrong, and who knew what he might do then? "Well, if we're really going to escape tomorrow, can we walk through those beautiful gardens one last time?" she asked, purposefully keeping her tone light.

Her smile was Erik's undoing. "Yes, of course, anything you'd like! Come along, my dear. We'll walk the gardens and then take a meal. Who knows? I might be able to sketch you once more before the morning comes upon us,"

Christine smiled- she genuinely liked Erik. He was as amusing and gentle as he was mysterious, and doted on her like a favored pet. He loved her, anyone could see it. She tried not to think of how she had been leading him on in the hopes that he'd help her escape- it was never meant to hurt him, it was a _necessity for her survival_.

* * *

They had walked the gardens again, and talked of many things: popular artists, their favored musicians, the places they'd seen. Christine could not compete with Erik's tales of Russia and Asia, but she was happy to listen as her masked companion went on about the differences in so many cultures. She had to admit that she was greatly impressed with her worldly companion, he'd seen so much and experienced such a life! 

Erik had laid a blanket out over the grass, and Christine had laid down on her side before him, while he sat cross-legged on one corner. As he spoke, Christine pondered over what would happen if Erik actually kept his word, and brought her home. It wasn't his intention to leave her after the great escape- Erik wanted to share in her life.

He loved her, he considered them truly married.

Christine looked up at her "husband", this strange man. He wore a black suit, contrasting greatly with the riot of colors that made up the garden, and with his own pale skin. She glanced at his strong, thin hands before lifting her eyes back to his masked face. The mask was the same face that she'd seen when Erik had awoken her, days ago. Matte black, and smooth- a wide forehead, high sloping cheekbones, a straight nose, a molded grin for a mouth.

Erik's face, his very identity was false.

She thought of the mural painting, the skeleton in a black French suit. Keen green eyes focused in on the very edge of the mask as Erik went on talking, and Christine could see a few exposed inches of mottled skin on the hinge of his jaw. The strange discoloration faded smoothly into his neck, which appeared normal.

'_So, he is deformed then_,' Christine thought. Idly, she wondered if he could possibly look as bad as in the painting. '_Surely not!_ '

What would happen if Erik allowed her to lift the mask? Would she find a skull staring back at her?

_'Don't be ridiculous, it was just a painting!'_

Several hours were spent in the gardens. The area was so large that Christine felt she could lose herself in the blossoms, but Erik was by her side to lead the way. Once they'd finished with the gardens, he brought her to the palace library- all of the tomes were in Arabic, of course, but Christine looked over the scrolled tapestries and books on famous paintings and architecture.

When Erik enquired if she was an avid reader, Christine had revealed that an entire room of her late father's home had been devoted solely to her book collection. Erik had been very pleased to hear that his wife possessed an open, intelligent mind.

Erik thought to himself that he might like to show her the symbols that made her name in Arabic, but then thought better of it. Christine would not be interested in learning more about the culture that had kidnapped her- when they escaped, he thought she might be more receptive to learning Japanese calligraphy instead. He would enjoy teaching her, the girl was silently begging to learn about the world outside of her island home.

He'd had Christine in stitches for the past several minutes, her laughter was music to him, echoing off the empty library's walls. Erik knew he was lost to her, and it thrilled him. Christine had put a hand over her mouth, but her smile was all too clear. His heart pounded.

_'I did this. She laughs at my jokes. Because of me, Christine is happy! Her fear of me is gone, she trusts me now, and it has only been a few days! Love will come when we leave this place, when she sees the lengths to which I'll go for her. Oh, Christine, all I've ever wanted is you!'_

Night had fallen swiftly over the desert. Erik reached for Christine's hand and thrilled as she touched his bare skin without any protests. He held no illusions about his own body, Erik knew his skin was papery and pale, ice cold; his fingers long and skeletal, but still Christine touched him!

Smiling behind the mask, he felt light as air as they returned to his chambers. Erik envisioned love with Christine after leaving Tejar with some difficulty- for all his longings he had no experience to offer her. He thought of what they had done together so far- walking the gardens, holding hands, sharing meals and stories…the past few days were the extent of Erik's experience with women, but she had made him so happy!

There was more to marriage, he knew that. Kissing, caressing, making love…

Erik felt shamed by his failure to measure up as a man. There were few things beyond his understanding, but marriage was a secret place where he'd never once thought to be invited. He'd tried for so long to ignore his own urges, but he had a living wife now. Even if Christine came to love him with only the smallest notion in her heart, Erik knew that making love to her was out of the question.

He could never inflict himself upon her in such a way, it would be beyond cruel. Even if all things were equal between them, Erik had nothing to offer her. His understanding was limited, but he knew the preferred places for each gender: it was the man's place to be experienced and mature, to soothe his young virgin wife into bed…

'_This is all wrong!'_ Erik thought with sudden despair. '_We are backwards- Christine is no virgin, she's had a lover, Raoul de Chagny, and I am as immature as a beardless schoolboy!'_

Erik shook his head as he watched Christine toe off her jade slippers. '_Leave it, Erik. You have more than what you deserve. She could never want you in that way- last night was the drug in her fevered blood, and nothing more. The time is drawing near, it's time to get started…'_

He smiled and went over to the samovar that he'd set against the wall. There had been no time to brew his tea in the last few days, but tonight, their last night together in Tejar, Erik felt ready for a toast of Royal Russian.

"Christine. Will you please write out the address of your home?" he asked as he set water to boil.

She'd been sitting on the edge of his bed, and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I will need it for tomorrow."

Christine frowned but did as Erik asked, and wrote down her address. The man had his back to her, his eyes focused on watching the water. She sat down beside him. "So, what's the plan?"

"The plan?"

"What have you got up your sleeve, Erik?" she pressed.

Erik turned to her, his eyes as intense as ever. "Christine. I'm making you a cup of tea, and I need you to drink every drop. It will put you to sleep for many hours, perhaps over a day. It must be this way- what I will be doing soon…I don't want you to see any of it. Drink this tea, Christine, and when you wake up, you will be home. You have my word. You can trust me."

Christine blinked furiously, her fears returned to her fully. Drink Erik's drugged tea? Willingly let him handle her while she was unconscious? He could do anything he wanted to her! There would be nothing to stop the man from raping her and then burying her violated body in the desert!

'_Look into his eyes_,' her cunning mind urged. '_Erik is in love. You've seen what he can do. It's been days, if Erik wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now. If you refuse, you lose Erik's protection. If you accept…Erik has given you his promise, now's the time to test his word…'_

She took a deep breath and held it as she watched Erik pour a scentless white powder into the steaming cup of tea that he'd made for her. He stirred in the drug and watched as it dissolved. Amber eyes lifted to her own.

Christine took the cup from him. "I'll wake up at home?" She asked him, echoing his words.

The mask nodded. "Back in your bed, in the little house by the sea," he promised. Christine lifted the cup to her lips. The last thing she could remember was thinking that the tea tasted very bitter.

* * *

"Ugh, my head," 

A throbbing pain pulsed just behind her eyes, and Christine felt exhausted, despite having just woken up. Something was wrong with her, she knew it upon waking. Nausea pulled at her stomach, and her teeth felt like they were covered in fuzz. She felt in dire need of a shower and a change of clothes. Her skin was damp with sweat and she felt that she might soon be ill.

Christine brought a hand to her temple and breathed steadily for several seconds. Her eyes shot open at the flood of familiar scent- the mixed scents of her various perfumes, the linen bed sheets, the salty air of the sea. It was her bedroom, just as she'd left it. Her cluttered desk, her overstuffed bookcase, her computer, her television, her posters and pictures, her _everything!_

Christine could hear the steady pulse of the waves outside her opened window.

_'I'm home.'_


	8. The First Day

**Author's Note: Yes, this is a modern story. I've had a few confused e-mails and reviews, but keep in mind that I never actually mentioned a time period in which this story takes place. Was I purposefully misleading? Of course I was- what's the point of a plot twist if you can see it coming from a mile away? **

**Tejar is not Persia/Irag/Iran or any of those places, it's just a made-up place that has more or less refused to move on with the rest of the world by modernising its culture. Now, on with the show...**

* * *

Christine rose from her bed and moved to the window. She rarely left it open, it had not been open the day she was taken away, she knew it. Erik must have opened it to let in some fresh air.

'_Erik, you did it. I'm home!'_

The waves crashed outside, a mere hundred feet from her home. She turned to look at her bedroom. Everything was exactly where she'd left it, nothing was out of place. Smiling, she lifted a small carved box of mahogany off the dresser and lifted the lid to find the necklace her father had given to her before he'd died.

In the back of her mind, Christine had worried that whoever had taken her may have also helped themselves to any valuables in the house. It had been stupid to worry over possessions when her life had been hanging in the balance, but Christine had loathed the thought of one of the Queen's harem girls wearing any of her jewelry. Vain thoughts, but she could not help how her mind worked.

She closed the box and went to her closet. Christine felt that she could weep at the sight presented to her: jeans, sweaters, t-shirts, tennis shoes, sandals…

The safety of her familiar home enveloped her, a warm quilt in winter- she was home, free to wear what she chose, free to go where she wished, and speak French to everyone on the island. Here it was safe. Her heart thrilled within her chest- no more Arabic, the Queen was thousands of miles away, she was home she was safe!

A laugh of tearful joy escaped her throat, almost choking her. Christine covered her mouth and felt tears of happiness course down her face. She brushed the tears away, though it was no use. She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. It felt tangled and dirty. In fact, her entire body felt in need of a long bath.

Christine chose a favorite outfit from her closet- a pair of dark jeans, a red t-shirt, her favorite tennis shoes. The clothes were casual, but Christine didn't see anything wrong with what she preferred to wear, it was what she would have worn on any other day. Besides, the jeans and t-shirt were a grateful return after being forced to prance around in little more than lingerie in front of Erik for the past few days. She stopped.

'_Erik. Where is he?'_

Christine didn't bother to wonder about the man for long, she knew that he would show himself sooner or later if he was in the house. She wasn't worried about him- he had managed to get her home and safe, just as he'd promised.

She didn't want to weigh herself down with the heavy thoughts of what Erik might expect of her now that they were free of the dangers in Tejar, she only wanted to shower, change her clothes, and eat some breakfast.

_'Let me have a day, one day to be home and be happy- I need to see Erik, we need to talk, but can't I just enjoy my first day?'_

The bathroom was down the hall from her bedroom and Christine brought her clothes in with her, setting them on the plain marble counter beside the sink. She quickly stripped out of the delicate jade chemise gown that she'd been wearing since Tejar and tossed it on the floor.

The searing blast of water raised gooseflesh all over her body, invigorating, wonderful! Christine shampooed several times, determined to wash the desert out of her hair. She shaved and lathered herself with soap. The slide of the sudsy bubbles down her body was almost sensual, she thrilled with excitement.

A song escaped her throat, and Christine didn't hold back, she sang to her heart's content through the shower, loud and enchanting, she didn't stop until her morning rituals were complete.

The hot water did not last long, it never had in the past, but even a shower of cold water was wonderfully refreshing. Christine stepped out of the shower stall and rubbed rose-scented lotion into her skin, pink from the steamy heat. The lotion was cool to the touch, invigorating- gooseflesh shivered over her body with renewed strength. She smiled as she rubbed the cream over her arms and legs, her shoulders, her breasts, stomach and back.

She felt new and bold and bright- reborn in the steam, the song escaping her throat was her first scream to life.

Christine thrilled at her familiar daytime routine- she had missed her morning shower, the smell of her shampoo and lotion, she'd been terrified at the idea of never seeing home again, but she was back now, home, and determined not to take anything for granted ever again!

Christine slicked her hair into a long high ponytail for the day and took her time in painting her finger and toenails a garishly bright shade of pink. She didn't care, she thought the color was beautiful, and she basked in the freedom to color herself in any way she chose.

Applying her makeup was easier than ever- she left her face bare. She let her skin show through, her face was glowing in happiness, why cover it up? She found that she looked forward to findig Erik, to showing him her bright home with its breezy beach curtains and the little gardens scattered about the property.

_'The lady of the house has returned, but not alone- I'll find Erik and share this great day with him, I must see him!'_

After adding her favored lipgloss and then lining her eyes, Christine felt stronger, more herself, ready to face her first day home. She stepped out of the bathroom and strode out into the living room. The room was dark and very quiet- it also felt unbearably stuffy.

She moved across the room and opened the double doors that led out to the stone patio, allowing the ocean air to circulate through her home. It felt stale inside after being left locked up for so many days.

Christine stepped out onto the wood deck and watched the water crash against the rocks. She breathed in the salty air. "Beautiful!" She cried out to the waves. She broke out, bounding from the deck and down to the rocky shore.

Erik watched her from inside the house; his wife was thrilled to be home and safe, exactly where she should be. He took a deep breath and smiled behind his mask as he watched her climb the smooth boulders that lined the shore of her property.

'_I've made you only half as happy as you've made me_,' he thought. Christine had run off the patio deck and out towards the ocean. She was jumping from one huge boulder to another with practiced ease. Erik observed in Christine a natural grace, feline.

He'd heard her singing in the bathroom. Her voice…how had God improved upon perfection? Impossible! Beautiful in body and soul, with a voice of the angels! Her voice had brought tears to his eyes, his admiration swiftly moving to pain.

Christine really was too much for Erik.

_'If I live a thousand years and traveled the world over, I'll never find another woman that I could love as much as I've come to love you, Christine Daae!'_

Erik turned back to what he'd been doing before Christine came downstairs. He'd hidden when he heard the door to the bathroom open; he wanted to see what she would do when she thought herself alone.

It was strange to see Christine in her natural element, in clothes more befitting to the modern girl she was, rather than as a forced courtesan in Tejar. She'd been wearing dark jeans that fit her body like a second skin, and a sleeved shirt that left a thin strip of her midriff bare to his eyes. Erik had caught sight of her jeweled navel.

Christine's face had been different as well. Her skin had been bare, glowingly natural, but her lips were redder than usual, and her emeralds had been lined in dark violet. Erik did like it, but it was different from what he'd grown accustomed to in the timeless country of Tejar.

Well.

He could adjust for Christine.

Erik turned to the photographs lining the mantle. The surface was cluttered with the amount of pictures he found there. She had not described to him her friends and family, but he could surmise that the portly man smiling to the camera must be her father, and there were a few pictures of a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Christine who must have been her mother.

The other pictures, Erik didn't know what to make of them. There was a girl about Christine's age with short blonde hair and a beaming smile. Several pictures of the girls together in various poses, but always smiling. There were others, occasionally with a few young men in the mix.

They all seemed very happy.

A swift wave of bitter regret advanced on him, but for the first time Erik's thoughts were tinged with hope. '_There are no photographs of me in the family home. I had no friends, I rarely left the house. That is all over, and I have you now, my wonderful Christine.'_

Erik envied Christine her pure soul and beauty.

He wished to be admired and seen as a lovely creature. It was impossible of course, but his wish for a woman's acceptance had come true, and he wanted only to be handsome for her, to be a man half worthy of her love.

Erik had no illusions of this fairy tale. Whatever kindness Christine felt for him now, it was borne out of gratitude and no doubt a fair bit of morbid curiosity. He didn't deserve such a wonder as a wife, not with so many deaths on his hands; with every horror that Erik had committed, he deserved death by his own torture chambers.

Christine claimed she believed he could be a good man- '_For you, I will the best of men…'_

"Oh! I was wondering where you were," Christine said. Erik replaced the pictures back onto the mantle and turned to face her.

"I've been around," Erik replied, thankful to see her smiling at him. "How are you feeling? That drug I gave you, I was worried that it would make you ill."

Christine shrugged. Erik noticed with approval how much more comfortable she was with herself in the security of her own home. "I had a headache when I woke up, but I felt fine after taking a shower. What about you, Erik? Can I get you anything- are you hungry or thirsty? I don't remember what I have in the kitchen, but I can run to the shop up the street for anything you want,"

She was speaking quickly, excited and happy. Erik shook his head. "No, I'm all right. I ate earlier, while you slept. You should eat."

Christine raised a brow and looked past his shoulder, to the mantle. "Were you spying around while I was outside?"

"Your pictures are interesting."

Christine moved forward and, as if on impulse, she threw her arms around him. "Erik, thank you so much for bringing me home! You don't know what this means to me- I'm home and I'm safe, we're free!"

Erik brought his arms around her to return her embrace. She made him feel like a man when she touched him she made him feel human. He'd never known such a wonderful feeling.

Christine felt released from the guilt that she'd felt at leading Erik on in Tejar. He had fulfilled his promise- she was home safely, and now she knew that she had to fulfill hers._'Erik doesn't want much from me, he just wants a friend. I can be that friend, I can be anything he needs!'_

The girl was naive to a dangerous degree, but at the moment Erik posed no threat to her.

Christine knew that Erik had spent his life a lonely man. She imagined few friends and family, if any at all. Certainly, there had never been a woman. Erik had told her as much. With a new determination, she knew that she would have to be everything to Erik that he'd missed out on in his life.

Christine surprised herself when she found no fear in the task.

* * *

The first day back home, Christine had drawn Erik out of the house with the reassurance that no one would be able to see them on the shore. He had been worried, but Christine proved that there was nothing to fear. The closest building in sight was the grocery shop, and she assured him that the owner wasn't likely to come over even if he could see them. 

Her shore was lined with great round boulders; they were smooth thanks to centuries of being pounded by the waves. Christine, for as long as she could remember, had loved climbing, and the boulders were perfect. The tallest of the rocks was a great sloping mound of gray stone, about twenty feet at its highest point.

Erik climbed up onto one of the boulders lining the shore after Christine. "Come on, Erik, I know you're faster than that!" She called to him as she sat on the rounded top of one of the lower rocks and watched him come after her.

Erik smiled at her, but she could not see it. "Of course I am, but perhaps I'd like to enjoy the scenery?"

Proving his speed, he bounded up the boulder and came to sit down beside her on the large smooth stone. Christine turned to look out at sea. On impulse, Erik put an arm around her. To his delight, Christine leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

'_My wife!'_

Erik had become bolder in his gestures- he'd already touched her several times that day. Little touches, only the small of her back, her waist or her hands, but he was initiating, something he hadn't done much of in Tejar.

Freedom is a potent thing.

They sat together on the boulder for several minutes, enjoying the low roar of the ocean. Erik was kind and gentle, entertaining and mysterious. His dark past fell from her mind as if he had never forced his crimes upon her ears. The image of Erik as a killer seemed anathema to the man beside her. Christine thought that she might enjoy having him stay in her home, but what would everyone else think?

"Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?" His voice was a low rumble beneath her ear.

"We should work on our story," she said with a quiet yawn.

"Our story?"

"Yes, we can't tell people the truth, that I was kidnapped to Tejar and given to you as a slave. Even if someone might actually believe it really happened, I don't think they'd take well to you, despite the fact you did bring me back home." Christine moved out of the circle of Erik's arms and looked at him. The silver mask shone in the sun, but shadows fell over his eyes. She couldn't find the comfort of his amber stare.

"They might not take well to me at all, given what I am," he said quietly.

"Oh, Erik. You are what people believe you are. The truth is that you're my hero, you were from the moment I laid eyes on you, even if I didn't understand it at the time. I'm sorry for that, but I see the truth now." She looked at him pensively for a long moment before her lips quirked in a playful smile. "You know, I think it'd be safe to say that we're both fairly creative people. Together, we could spin a great story about how we met, where you came from, even why you wear a mask." The last had slipped out before she could catch herself.

Erik regarded her silently for a long time. Then, "You've never asked me about my mask. You never asked me why I wore it, even when we were alone together. You never asked me to take it off, and you never tried to take it from me. Now why is that?"

There was a creeping, cold suspicion in his voice that sent a chill down her spine. '_Don't be afraid of Erik- he is only a man, and he's proved to be a wonderfully bizarre man at that. Handle this talk with great care…'_

Christine took a deep breath. "That painting on the wall of the palace. It's you, isn't it?"

There was a moment where Christine thought that the ocean itself had gone silent in its determination to hear Erik's reply. "Yes."

"So your face…?"

"Yes." Erik's voice was sharp, and he moved to climb down, away from her, but Christine put her hand out and caught the lapel of his suit jacket.

"Erik, wait-"

"Why? So you can ask to see me and make a false promise that you won't be afraid? So that when I show you my face you will gasp and I will have to watch you swallow your disgust before you're even able to speak to me?" He demanded icily.

Christine held out her hands. "Erik, no! I wouldn't do that, listen, you don't have to take off your mask, I'm just worried about what other people will think when they meet you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to get in contact with my friends soon. They'll want to come over here, and we have to tell them something to explain your mask- it'll probably be the first thing they ask about you!"

Erik's body froze as he tried to process what Christine was trying to tell him. She'd seen that horrible painting of him in the palace mural, he'd told her the truth about his face, and yet Christine was speaking of meeting her friends, explaining his presence in her home and her life.

'_How long has she known about my face?' _He wondered.

"What are you saying?" he asked, unwilling to raise his hopes.

The immense weight that sChristine had been running from since that morning suddenly found her. Erik had raised his head to her, and she could see such sorrow in his stare that it pulled at her heart.

Erik had been hurt, many, many times in his life, it was written in his amber eyes.

"Erik. You thought that I'd turn you away when I found out about your face, didn't you?" she asked.

Only a slight nod of the mask. "Yes. You would not be the first," he said miserably. Erik hated this, that Christine knew the truth, that as his wife he was bound by their marriage to tell her everything and deny her nothing.

Erik had promised Christine his honesty in Tejar, he strived to keep his word, despite the damage he knew it would cause to his newfound happiness. He looked up and watched as a slow smile unfolded over his wife's proud face. She reached to him and took his hand. Helpless, Erik only watched as Christine turned his bare hand in hers and lifted his palm to her lips.

It was fleeting, giving Erik no more sensation than that of a feather against his palm. His eyes had gone wide behind the mask as he'd watched her full lips brush willingly, purposefully against his skin. A touch of moisture, the soft suction of her lips. A kiss…a kiss of kindness, of compassion; a kiss of pity, perhaps, but Erik would take it for what it was. _'A real kiss…Christine!'_

Erik was so shocked, so happy, he slipped off the edge of the boulder and landed in the yard. Raoul had told Christine many things about her mouth, but she had never believed him when he'd said that her kiss could knock a man off his feet; after seeing Erik fall, she reconsidered her own powers of seduction.

* * *

"It's not such a bad tear," Christine remarked as she held up his suit jacket. In his fall, Erik had managed to tear it. He sat on the loveseat sofa, cradling his hand as she inspected his jacket. "It tore cleanly on the hem. I'll sew it up later. All you have are suits, but you don't need to wear them on this island. We're not so formal as they are in Paris." 

She was teasing him, trying to help Erik relax, but he was fixated into his own world of thought. Christine was no fool- she knew the light kiss to his palm had to be one of the most intimate gestures that he'd ever experienced. That had been her reason, to show him through touch that she would not turn him away for his face. Erik had said that she would be the first, and despite herself, Christine had to wonder about his family.

Erik was only a man, and so had been a child once. Had he met his parents? Had they been the first to turn him away because of the way he looked?

Erik did not wish to reveal his face to her, and Christine had no desire to see it, if only because it was such a source of pain for him. She liked the way that things were between them now. Friendly and close, with their feelings giving grace and harmony to the home. Their home. Christine smiled to herself at that thought- she and Erik were to share the house now.

She was reminded of a time, only months ago when Raoul had fought with his brother and she had insisted that he stay with her for a few weeks so that the men might cool their tempers. While Raoul had stayed, they had been like a married couple- it had been a glimpse of what sharing a life with Raoul would be like, if they ever again attempted a relationship.

The thought gave her pause. How long did Erik expect her to stay on as his play wife? What would they do when Christine found another man, a man that could give her a real marriage? She had goals in mind for a career in the arts, but she had always planned on getting married and having children. When would Erik let her go?

_'It hasn't even been a day, don't think of all that now. Give Erik what he wants, what he deserves. He protected you for days in that awful place and risked his life to save you. Be his friend and wife, give him what he wants, whatever he asks, even…just give him his happiness, as he gave you your freedom.'_

Christine shrugged off her thoughts and hung Erik's torn jacket in the front foyer closet. Turning back to him, she thought that she must have grown accustomed to his bizarre appearance- clothed in black, his face covered by the silver mask, he aroused no wariness in her. He'd been gentle as a lamb from the moment they'd first met, but she did think he seemed out of place, almost comical as he sat there in her humble den.

Christine sat down beside him and smiled as he looked at her. "Chin up, Erik. I'll mend your precious jacket and then you can creep around the house in style," she laughed, and felt relieved when a few chuckles escaped from him as well.

He slowly reached for her hand. "I don't care about the jacket, I'm just embarrassed at having fallen from the rocks."

"You didn't fall, you just…stumbled gracefully, I guess." She teased, gripping his hand tighter and nudging his ribs.

"A first time for everything, my dear."

"I guess so. Would you like to watch a film with me?" she asked. In Tejar there had been no sign of modern technology, nothing that she could have used to get help from the outside world. Now, she wanted to watch a movie, watch television, listen to the radio, use the Internet, use a camera…

"Anything you'd like, Christine."

Erik had a way of saying her name, purring the sounds, changing an otherwise ordinary name into a title as rich as chocolate. His voice was magic, a sensual slide of velvet down her spine. Gooseflesh shivered over her body, and Christine blushed furiously. She released her hand from his grip and fumbled for the remote control.

She found it and clicked on the television. A news anchor slowly shifted into focus. "Tejar authorities are not ruling out terrorist attacks from insurgeants in the surrounding region, but so far as the palace inspectors are able to tell, it appears to have been a tragic accident involving the vast fireworks display that had been meant for an independence day celebration later on tonight. The explosions began early yesterday morning and reports are coming in that a large amount of sulfur and potassium nitrate has been detected, giving more credence to this theory."

Christine dropped the remote control as press images of the palace swept over the television screen. Dark smoke was billowing from every window of the tower. Raging fire was still flaming throughout the palace. A scrolling report read that the explosions claimed many lives, but the royal family was largely unharmed. She didn't know whether or not that was a good thing.

"Erik, _that_ was your distraction?" She asked in shock.

"Yes. We died in those explosions yesterday, Christine."

"That was your plan? To fake our deaths by killing even more people?" She demanded, hot tears filling her eyes.

Erik turned and braced his hands over her shoulders. "Christine, I know you think me a monster. I am, I am that monster. I developed the plan to destroy the tower with hardly a thought to the consequences to those other than you and I."

Christine brought her hands to rest on either side of his silver mask. Entwined in each other's arms as they were, it seemed a cruel mockery of their past embraces. "But why, Erik? There had to have been another way-"

"Oh yes, I know I could have found another way, but I didn't want to! I hated those animals, I wanted them dead! I wanted the explosions to claim the entire palace, my only regret was that I was not able to see the Queen burn! Don't you see, she wanted to kill you and keep me forever as her tortured plaything. I will never let any harm befall you ever again, you are my wife. I will kill to protect you, I already have."

'_You can't hate him for this, he did it to free you. Erik has killed before, you knew that. You know it already, he told you- all he's ever known is hatred, he's never known kindness, he's never known love! You've heard the happiness in his voice, you know Erik loves you. For the sake of the world you can't take that away from him!'_


	9. No More Blood On Your Hands

Christine was speechless at the man trembling before her. Erik held her hands in his, urging her to understand his twisted logic, his justification for what he'd done. The man had set off a series of explosives within the North Tower of the palace, killing several of the servants and possibly injuring members of the royal family.

Did he care?

Christine had to believe that, in a way, Erik felt some remorse for what he'd done. He claimed to be glad for the killings, but she refused to believe him. His hatred for the people of that kingdom radiated from him; he'd been horribly mistreated by the Queen- Christine didn't know what tortures that woman had inflicted upon him, but the wounds that poor Erik had carried for so long would obviously need time to heal. She wanted to heal him, to make this man whole again.

Still, Christine could not stop her tears. "No more, Erik. No more blood on your hands," she begged, urgently kissing his palms. "Promise me, please, no more killing- you don't need to do it anymore, just promise me you'll stop!"

Erik's hands shook when she kissed him and he seemed to slide from the sofa, down to the floor, coming to kneel before her. He held her hands in his and bowed his head, the mask lightly touching her denim-clad knees. He spoke slowly, and when he spoke it was the voice of all sadness. "Oh, Christine…I have been a monster for so long, and then I found you… I can be good, I've proven it to you, haven't I? More good is needed from me, I know it…I will be good for your love. I know that you no longer fear me, Christine, and now you must love me. Love me for myself, and you will see the goodness in me…"

Christine swiped the tears from her face and reached to him, lifting his masked face to hers. When she spoke, it was sincere. She cared for this man, he was her champion. "Erik, I believe you can be good; in time maybe I could come to love you for it. I don't know. You've protected me, you've been wonderful to me since I woke up in Tejar. We both know that you could've done anything you wanted to me but you didn't. Under everything, I believe that people are good, and _you're just_ _like everyone else_. I don't believe you're a monster, I know you're a man. No more killing, Erik. You have to promise me that no more people will die by your hands- can you do that?"

At the tiny hint to hope, Erik found himself promising her the world.

"Yes, Christine! Anything you want, I would do anything! You can't understand- I don't want to kill, blood-lust has been burned from my heart, replaced with my love for you. I won't do it again, if only I could be loved for myself!"

Christine slid down from the couch and came before Erik, bringing her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, Erik," she whispered. She clung to him, holding fast to the folds of his shirt, soaking it with her tears. His hands encircled her, smoothing over her raven black hair and down her back.

They spent near an hour in the embrace. When their tears had dried and Christine's crying had stopped, they had still remained entwined, drawing comfort from each other, listening to the paired heartbeats and breathing of their bodies.

The silence had to be broken.

"This wasn't how I wanted my first day back home to be," she murmured against him, as always trying to bring a bit of humor into the situation. She was exhausted with lies and constant double meanings- she only wanted honesty between them.

Erik pulled back to look at her. "I'm sorry, I've ruined things-"

Christine sighed and gave a tired laugh. "No, it's not you. It's me- or, it's the both of us. It doesn't matter. The day is gone as it is."

"What had been your plans?"

Christine shrugged. "I really just wanted an easy, light day with none of this- no crying, no talk of Tejar…I don't know what to do with you, Erik." She said with a sad smile.

"If you loved me, you could do whatever you pleased with me." Erik replied with a touch of hopeful coaxing in his voice.

Christine laughed a little at that. "Nice try," she said as she stood up to stretch- her legs were cramped after remaining so long in their position on the floor. Erik stood up beside her and turned his back to adjust the mask.

_'He only wants me to love him. I do care for him, I want to help him. Oh, Erik, you've thrown your ultimatum at me, and I've earned it for how I led you on in Tejar. I deserve this for lying to you, and I am sorry for lying, but I'm not sorry for having you in my life. I can show you that not all the world is so cruel. No one has ever shown you love, but to bring out the good in you, **I will**…'_

"Can we try again, please?" Christine asked, thinking of all they had to do.

"Try again?"

"Yes, Erik. I'd like to try again for today- there's a lot we have to cover. We need to come up with a story about how we met, where I've been the past week and your entire background story for when people ask about you. You've barely seen any of the house, have you?"

Erik shook his head. "I wasn't spying around while you were sleeping, if that's what you mean." There was humor in his eyes, he felt eager to move on from the intensity of before as well. He showed no outward sign of it, but Erik was beyond exhausted.

"Then I have plenty to show you. Come with me," Christine smiled then, and reached for his hand. Helpless, Erik surrendered himself to her whim.

* * *

The afternoon sunset was glorious, painfully vibrant as the ocean waves reflected the orange sun and the colors of the sky. Christine watched it as she stood out on the back patio with a light cognac in hand. The drink was rich and warm, a perfect compliment to the dinner that she and Erik had prepared together. 

Luckily for them, there had been everything they needed in the kitchen. Vaguely, she recalled having gone shopping for fresh groceries the very morning of her kidnapping. The ingredients were still fresh, and by combining their efforts, they'd been able to make a wonderful little feast. Skate wing with capers and steamed potatoes, the meal had been very nice, though Christine found regret that Erik wasn't able to eat at the table with her.

To eat, his mask would have had to come off, a thing neither of them desired. Erik was in the kitchen now, eating, and when he was finished, he would come out to see her. Christine didn't mind terribly as she watched the sun set on her ocean, slipping out of view altogether. She leaned comfortably against a terrace post as stars began to shine through the descending night.

The cognac was good, one of her few true indulgences. The bottle had been purchased on her last visit to mainland France, over six months ago. A hand grazed her shoulder. _'Erik.'_

"I cleaned up the kitchen," he said as she turned to face him. She smiled.

"You didn't have to do that. I would have straightened up after you were done eating. Oh well. Do you want to try again for that movie?" She asked on impulse.

They had spent the entire day together, exploring the house and the surrounding property, which included several small gardens, the rocky shore and an expansive front yard.

Erik had learned much about Christine and her parents. Her mother had died shortly after giving birth, and her father had passed nearly two years ago- a heart attack while away on business. She spoke of her best friend Meg, who lived further into the center of the island with her mother.

Erik noticed that she did not mention Raoul de Chagny, not even once, but he did not bring up the subject, he only listened as she told him about her life, about the island and her house. Her smiles and light touches continued. What more could he ask for? He felt like a man.

Behind the mask, Erik smiled. "Yes, a movie would be lovely. What film is it?"

Christine shrugged. "Well, I have more movies than anyone else on the entire island, you have your pick of my library!"

Erik followed her to an armoire and concealed his surprise at the amount of films inside. He raised his eyebrows and took the nearest DVD case, choosing at random. He had been gone from the modern world for so long that he couldn't recognize any of the titles surrounding him. A fetching blonde smiled at him from the cover of the film's case.

"Mmm...how about this one?"

Christine shrugged and took the case from him. "Anything you'd like,"

She set the film to play and they settled together on the sofa. Erik idly watched the film, but to him it felt more like a test in endurance as Christine cuddled against him, and even placed his arm around her waist. He felt tense as he did whenever her contact became too close.

The couple onscreen, who had spent the most part of the film in search of each other, had finally achieved their Hollywood moment, and were now in the process of disrobing before each other for the first time.

Erik swallowed as the man onscreen began to fondle the woman's breasts, kissing her neck and backing her to the bed. He tried not to think of the night when Christine had been taken with the drugged wine, driven into crazed sexual frenzy. Erik had wanted her then, so badly- but no, it was not right. He knew that things between them would never reach that level of intimacy; in a way he was grateful, for she would never see his face, but as a man it caused him much disappointment. Theirs was a bizarre situation, a false marriage never to be consummated.

What was there to look forward to if this was as close as she could bear to be with him?

He sighed, and watched the couple on the screen engage in pleasures that Erik knew were beyond his reach. He felt he could be content with the arrangement he had with Christine. Intimate conversation, light touches- but there was an unspoken understanding between them: no physical love. That was all right, he already had more than he had ever dreamed of.

'_A woman, a friend, my wife…'_

Scrolling credits appeared on screen- "le film est fini."

Christine shifted out of his arms and rose to turn off the television. The den room was swept into darkness, but Erik could see her silver-shadowed figure, greatly aided by the moonlight coming in from outside. "Time for bed, Erik."

'_O sweet torture, never was there a greater weapon against my sanity than this beauty!'_

Christine led Erik up to her bedroom. In Tejar, he had been willing to sleep on the floor like an animal but Christine had beckoned him to sleep beside her on their first night. She had been afraid then, and desperate for his comfort. Now that she was home, Erik had expected that Christine would leave him to sleep alone in the living room.

He had not expected the miracle of sleeping with her again.

Erik stood at the doorway and watched as Christine readied herself for bed. He was only observing her habits, attempting to memorize the movements she made and her preferences as she chose her clothes for bed.

Slowly, Christine let her hair down from the ponytail; the black locks fell down her back in a wild, sensual tumble. Erik wondered what she would do if he went to her then and speared his fingers through those onyx waves, or if he brought his hands to her back and stroked her, from the nape of her neck, down to the twin indentions just below her waist…

Erik sighed lightly- it would forever remain a dream. Christine had given him far too much of herself already. His palms tingled at the memory of her lips. Greatly tempted, but he could never lose his self-control.

The man watched as she opened the top dresser drawer to pull out a peach camisole and a pair of skimpy matching shorts. She didn't stop her movements or ask him to leave- in fact she continued her actions as if Erik were invisible. He felt a voyeuristic thrill as he watched her lift her t-shirt over her head to reveal a bra of soft white lace underneath. A moan escaped his lips before he'd been able to stifle the noise.

_'Why is she teasing me like this? Does she do it to hurt me, to punish me for the lives I've claimed…? It cannot be an invitation, it could never be…'_

Erik turned his back to her and closed his eyes as Christine continued to strip herself. She knew that he was watching, so why was she suddenly being so openly immodest? _'Why, why, why?! This is true torture. Christine, you dance before me- everything I've always wanted, always out of reach. I want you!'_

The removal of the sight of Christine did not help his ravaging imagination- he could still hear her movements, the ruffling of her clothes as she shed the first set and slipped into the second. He could smell her- the scent of roses lingered, teasing his every sense.

Erik started once he felt her warm hand splayed across his chest. "Don't be so shy, Erik. If we're going to be living together like real married people then we're bound to see more of each other…"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. Christine had changed into her peach night set, and Erik had to admit that he liked the simplicity of it- she appeared more comfortable in it that she had in her Tejan garments, at any rate. The simple set fit her like a second skin, softly cupping her breasts and skimming over her smooth body. He swallowed.

"I won't undress in front of you, Christine."

Her black brows rose and she took his hand. "Why? Does the problem with your face go, ah, farther and you don't want me to see?"

The silver mask bobbed to the side as Erik shook his head. "No, it's just my cursed face. The rest of me…I have scars, Christine. From the Queen, from…other places. I'd just rather if you didn't see." He finished plainly, backing into the wall.

Christine was too close, he couldn't stand to be so near to her!

It killed him as she brought her arms to rest over his shoulders. "Erik, I don't know much about you, but I'd be a fool not to see how difficult you've had it. You're lonely, you've been mistreated. Even after everything you told me, I can't begin to imagine what you've gone through. Nothing I can say or do will repair the damage that's been done to you, but I want to help. I'm not trying to tease you, or hurt your feelings, I'm treating you as a man, the way a...wife treats her husband."

Erik was moved by Christine's words, his heart swelled within his chest, so much that it pained him greatly just to breathe. She moved forward to hug him, but his arms hung numbly at his sides.

_'I am your slave now. A love slave, if this is love, then I love you more than the world. You are beautiful, you are kind, you have the voice of an angel. Nothing you ask of me will be too great a cost. I will shower you with gifts, I will craft myself a true man's mask and I will take care of you the way only a proper husband can. You are my everything, Christine Daae.'_

Christine's hands moved to unbutton Erik's shirt, and she slid the garment from his tense shoulders. He was as pale as his hands, but in the warm lighting of her bedroom he didn't seem so ghostly. More muscular than she had expected. However, it was not his corded muscles that held her attention, but the scars running up and down his chest and arms.

"My God, Erik! What happened to you?" She put a hand to her mouth to cover her surprise and pity, but Erik could see it in her emerald eyes. Uncomfortable, he crossed his arms and took a step back, turning slightly away from her.

Somewhere, he found his voice. "I told you. As a slave for the Queen, I was often subject to…punishments befitting the crime of killing a royal child. Beatings, the lash, small branding burns, trickling acid. Torture. I told you."

Christine said nothing then, she only took his hands and led him to the bed, drawing him down with her into the sheets. She curled to him as she had on their first night together in Tejar. They said nothing to each other in the night, but Erik felt her tears on his bare chest.

* * *

**Christine **

Erik hadn't gone into details when he told me of his secret slavery to the Queen of Tejar. He'd only said "torture". My poor, poor Erik- look at what she's done to you!

Your chest and shoulders are covered in scars; I dread the sight of your back, it must be terrible.

How is it that you're able to be kind to me, to be gentle, when you've been so hurt by others? You have killed, you told me about that; the Queen forced you to kill with that rope, she's made you create poisons and build rooms were your victims were left to kill themselves to end their own madness.

To bring me home, you rigged explosives throughout the palace, and you admitted that you hadn't bothered to think of the people that would inevitably be killed or hurt. Your one focus had been on me alone.

You love me, Erik, I know you do.

You have told me with your actions, your eyes and your words. No one has ever loved me the way you do- I understand now, that I am what you've longed for, what you've dreamed of. No wife has ever been so loved.

Shame engulfed me as we laid together in bed, the both of us pretending to fall asleep. It was spearing me through the chest. I lead you on in Tejar, I played on your unstable emotions. I was ruthless in my seduction, and for that I am sorry. So sorry for what I've done to you. No more. Let me be honest- I do care for you, and though I do not love you now, I am not closed to the possibility of perhaps, someday, coming to love you. If I can, if I am strong enough.

So long as no new blood touches your hands, I can love you.

Once, my motivation had been to use your love to manipulate you; now, I will encourage the love you have for me with your capacity for good. I had not lied when I told you that I believed you could be a good man, Erik...

Have you ever loved anyone in your life? Has anyone ever shown you a scrap of love or even kindness? I know you can be good, Erik, but would you even want to try if it weren't for me? After what you've told me today, I believe that I am the only thing standing between you and true evil. _You've killed in the past, but it will end now, it has to!_

Oh, Erik…I am growing to care for you, but I can't love a willing murderer- who in this world could? You don't know what love is, and yet you love me! Only your love for me and the belief that I can come to love you will stop your killing hands!

I like you, Erik. There are wonderful qualities that you possess- a sense of humor, the manners of a gentleman, kindness, protectiveness, pride…God help me, I am drawn to you, but I fear nothing can come of it.

_Could I ever give myself to someone like you? _

Erik, you are at the first steps towards redemption, with keeping my love in mind as your eternal reward. I'll give you the hope for my love, Erik, so long as you never kill again…

What a shameful waste- had you not led such a life, even with the mask and the face beneath it, I could have worn your ring with pride…

* * *

Erik woke with the dawn, as he had for years. Christine was still snuggled to his bare chest, half atop him, while his arm rested comfortably over the curve of her waist. His mind felt light, full of her rose-scented air. He stroked up and down her back. Christine shifted just slightly in her sleep. Erik reveled in the warmth surrounding him, the comfort of the woman by his side. _'So soft, so inviting!'_

Christine's breasts brushed his chest as she slept, shielded from contact with his skin only by the thin material of her camisole. It would be so easy to reach to her and cup that soft mound of flesh, stroke her, caress her… Erik imagined that Christine might wake to his lingering touch, and thrill to him, offering herself to the demon that shared her bed.

'_That road leads only to further madness!_' Erik thought to himself as he shifted out of Christine's hold and stood from the bed. She slept on, while he indulged his curiosity and looked at the trinkets around her bedroom. Posters from movies, pictures of friends and family, all kinds of perfume and makeup was strewn over her dresser and desk. Everything here made Christine.

Erik slipped out of her bedroom and tread quietly down the hall, to the bathroom. He selected another mask and suit to wear for the day out of the large bag he'd prepared for leaving Tejar. It held his suits, along with the silk outfits that Christine had worn. There were other items as well, but Erik hadn't yet needed to put them into use.

He turned on the water. Erik shed his trousers and turned to the large bathroom mirror. There would be no way to hide from his reflection in the tiny room, especially with the mirror taking up so much wall space.

Erik removed his mask, and reveled in the wave of cool air that swept over his exposed face. He couldn't stand forever as he was- naked, while the shower was running. Slowly, painfully, Erik opened his eyes. The horror of his own face stared back- the large amber eyes set into the black sockets of his face; the papery, mottled skin stretched over the warped bones of his cheeks, the dark veins, visible just beneath the surface. The triangular hole where a long, straight nose should have grown, if the photographs of his father had been any indication…

Erik sighed. Well, at least Christine knew and respected the reason he wore the mask- she had no more desire to see him than he had to show her…still, as wonderful as she was, even her kind heart could not possibly bear to kiss his malformed lips.

Erik licked his teeth. They were even and white, the gums red and healthy- a fine compliment to his voice. He touched his hair. It had grown longer than he usually wore it; his hair was rough in texture and very dark. His eyes were bright amber, clear and very sharp.

'_Small blessings,_' Erik thought as he stepped into the shower. His body prickled at the steaming water, and he groaned with pleasure as the cascade lightly pummeled his back and shoulders. He wet his hair and, feeling foolish, washed himself with Christine's rose soap.

Minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Quickly putting on his suit for the day, Erik picked up a different mask. He'd taken a handful with him into his pack and Christine so far had only seen two- the black grin and the more serious silver. Erik washed the inside of his new mask for the day, a subtle, mischievous smirk, painted with a garnet seal. It was porcelain, much lighter than the other two he'd worn for Christine, and it would allow him more freedom of movement.

Erik tied the mask on and looked upon his reflection. His eyes lit up behind the crimson smirk, he liked that.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Erik heard someone moving about. He inwardly shrugged- it could only be Christine. His heart thrilled as he called out to her, "Christine, my pet, I am here-"

Erik stopped dead in his tracks once he'd set foot into the living room. It was not Christine standing there before the open double doors, it was **_Trapoi!_**

Like an avenging demon crawling up from the depths of Hell, Trapoi stood in the doorway, in sharp silhouette by the rising sun. Erik had held hopes that Trapoi would be counted among the dead in the Tower- but Trapoi looked no worse for the wear. The man stood, glaring at Erik with such hatred that for a moment, he paused in dread.

The moment passed in an instant, and Erik tensed his arm, only to find that he hadn't his lasso with him. _'You fool! You thought it was safe!'_

Trapoi had been waiting for the corpse to lash out with his golden rope, and as he'd expected, the creature had been caught off guard. He'd set out from Tejar only hours after the explosions- he'd known all along that it had been too convenient for the Queen's corpse and the slave girl to have died together in a fire brought on by his Colaca fireworks.

"Ah, it's a shame I was late, isn't it? Just think, I could have killed you while you slept, or better yet, taken your slave and forced you to watch…" Trapoi sneered.

He drew his sword as Erik remained standing tense. "How did you find us?"

"It wasn't difficult. You fucking creature, did you really think that running here would keep you safe? It was I who captured her for you, Corpse. I'd spied after the little bitch for weeks. I know this place as if it were my own. I came here to find you, Erik, and there are more coming. Perhaps for once in your half-life, you would like to show some proper judgment and come quietly?"

Erik didn't answer.

Trapoi nodded. "I thought not. Well, I can still offer the Queen the claim of self-defense when I present her with your head, alongside with the violated body of your whore!"

Erik allowed Trapoi to talk, boast and gloat over his supposed victory. '_Trapoi, you idiot- you've intruded upon the home of my wife! A husband protects his family at all costs, do you think I cannot fight without my lasso? No! All the world is a weapon, assassin, you should have stayed in the desert!'_

Erik reacted with the precision of a rattlesnake- he grabbed the crystal vase off the coffee table and threw it at Trapoi. His aim had been only to distract his enemy, but Trapoi had not become a favorite assassin by virtue of his looks- to Erik's dismay, the man was an excellent fighter.

Trapoi dodged the vase and it crashed against the wall, splattering water and flowers over the floor. Erik ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of steak knives from the woodblock. Trapoi ducked and dodged as Erik threw the knives at him, aiming for his heart, throat and stomach.

"Argh!"

Several of the knives had lodged into the wall, but Erik glanced up to see one of the knives firmly imbedded in the assassin's thigh, just above his knee. Trapoi had his sword drawn, but the wound had seized him. Erik saw his moment and ran forward to charge. Trapoi crashed through the patio doors with Erik atop him, pummeling with quick fists.

The sword was dropped, and the two of them wrestled in the yard, vicious as wild dogs. Trapoi landed hits to Erik's stomach, and the mask was cracked as he struck Erik's face. Trapoi shoved Erik off of him and they each rolled away to stand up.

It was not a graceful fight, it was vicious and dirty, the way a true fight should be. Trapoi kept his weight off the injured leg, but he'd recovered his sword. Erik put a hand over his bruised stomach and wondered for a moment if any of his ribs had been broken.

Trapoi raised his sword and lunged at Erik, his black eyes flashing as he used a move that- he knew firsthand- if landed successfully, would slice off anything that stood against his blade.

Erik dodged, and nearly lost his right hand in doing so. Trapoi faced him again and tried running him through, but Erik twisted out of the way once more and tore off his mask, revealing the horror that was his true face. _'Ah, now I can see you more clearly now, assassin, and will be better able to watch the light leave your eyes!'_

Trapoi paused just long enough for Erik to hit him in the throat and twist the knife further into his leg. Erik braced his arm around the man's throat and held him as he screamed, but Erik didn't stop. His voice was Death's voice as he whispered to Trapoi, "I'll kill you now, fool assassin, for all that you've done to me in the past- I have twelve scars to thank you for!" Erik hissed as he watched the pain overtake the man he held.

_'I believe you can be good…'_

Erik stopped. Christine's words flooded over him, jamming his lust for Trapoi's blood. Something must have showed in his face, some glimmer of emotion sweeping over his warped features. Trapoi, though sweating and gasping from the pain of the knife, noticed Erik's hesitation. "Why are you waiting, you pathetic dog? Kill me, coward!"

_'No more blood on your hands…'_

Erik sighed and released his hold on the knife imbedded in Trapoi's leg. With a quick pull, the knife was removed. There was dark blood soaking over Trapoi's trousers, but it was not a fatal wound.

_'Pity. I could have killed you, you know it Trapoi. I would have killed you here, gladly. But I made a promise to my wife…'_

Erik tossed away the bloody knife, but he kept his grip on Trapoi- wounded as he was, the man was still deadly as a viper, and needed no weapons to kill. Erik spoke softly. "I'm not going to kill you, Trapoi, and though the world would be grateful if I did, I know that Christine would not."

"Christine. Ah, yes, your corpse-fucking little whore of a wife. Is she inside? Let me go, Erik, and I'll show her what a real man feels like- agh!"

Erik struck Trapoi with enough force that the man fell unconscious, sprawled at Erik's feet in the yard. Taking a deep breath, he looked over to the house. The shattered patio doors were hanging drunkenly in their frames, and he knew that the living room was ruined.

_'Where is Christine? Had she heard the noise and run off? Good God, has she seen me?!'_

The man looked up, but he could not see her in the bedroom window. Erik scrambled around the grass until he found his mask, and tied it back around his face. There was a crack running across one of the cheeks, but he had no time to take care of it. His thoughts raced. _'Christine. Trapoi. The Queen. Tejar.'_

In frustration, Erik kicked his unconscious captive in the ribs.

'_You bastard! I just wanted peace for myself and safety for Christine! Can I not be granted the barest rights of men? I have to find her, and pray that she'll forgive me for what needs to be done.' _


	10. Another Escape

**Author's Note: This chapter has a lot of things happening to our dynamic duo, and it all might happen pretty fast but it's necessary to move the story futher along. Please read and review, but most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Christine had started awake by the crash of shattering glass somewhere in the house. _'Oh God, what the hell was that?' _she wondered in a sudden stab of fear. She glanced over to find that Erik was gone from her bed, where was he?

She told herself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe Erik had dropped a dish, or knocked something over…but the thoughts were quickly put to rest once she heard a man's sharp groan. The voice did not belong to Erik, and that wounded groan was followed almost immediately by an even greater crash of glass. She could hear things breaking- downstairs, something violent was taking place. She could hear hissing, furious voices outside her winow.

'_What is going on out there?' _

Christine pulled back her curtains and brought a hand to her mouth in terror once she recognized the man from Tejar. _'It's him! How did he find us so soon? Are there others?'_

Erik was below, and the two of them were fighting like animals, but thankfully he seemed unharmed. It was the other man, the man who'd tried to grab at her in Tejar, who had a blood soaked leg. Christine tried not to smile as his obvious pain as Erik punched him hard enough to crack his jaw.

Her hands were shaking as she hurled herself to the dresser to find something to wear. Christine pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, then a pair of shoes. Her mind was racing. If one man was here already, more might be on their way, or worse, already somewhere in the house! _'What to do, what to do?!'_

She stopped as the voices and sounds of struggle finally stopped, and she ran over to the window. The men were gone_! 'Oh God, Erik, where are you? Are you all right? I won't let them take us again!'_

Christine took one of her statuettes for a weapon and stepped out of her bedroom. Her body was on a hair-trigger alertness; ready to attack anyone that came at her. Slowly, she came around the corner, and peered into the kitchen.

Relief flooded over her as she saw Erik leaning heavily on the kitchen counter- he was wounded, exhausted, but still standing. Her heart swelled at the sight of her champion. "Oh, Erik!"

She ran forward and encircled him into her arms. "Oh, thank God you're all right! I saw you from my window, what happened, how did they find us?" Her questions flew at him in a rush, but Erik didn't seem fazed.

He gestured to the table, where Trapoi was tied to a chair, though he was still unconscious. Christine held in her strong urge to beat the man bloody while he was tied up and defenseless. She reined in her own lust for violence, but just barely.

Erik's voice was ragged when he spoke. "He was sent only as a scout, due to report back to the palace if he were to find anything. I'm sorry, Christine. I'd thought that they would assume we were dead, but I was wrong, so wrong! It's no longer safe here, it never was..."

"What are you saying?"

"Christine. It's not safe here. I'm sure that whomever Trapoi is running with will come here to find him when he doesn't report back. More will come, and I can't fight an entire army. Christine, we have to leave, I'm so sorry…"

Erik hung his head as he said this, his voice low and tired. Christine sighed, and knew that he was right. She hated him suddenly, for everything that she'd gone through the past week. _'I was taken from my home for you, and now I have to leave again for you!'_

Erik reached to put a hand on her shoulder, but Christine recoiled from him, anger blatant across her face. Everything he told her was logical, and she knew the truth of what he was saying- but to leave _her home?_ To have her freedom stolen from her _again?_

"Don't touch me! If what you're saying is true, then more bastards just like him are on the way. Move, Erik! I have to pack. Oh, and just so I know, where the hell are you taking me?" She demanded.

She was hurt, angry, afraid. These rationalizations did not help Erik though, when he looked into her eyes and saw such fury directed at him. He bowed his head and clasped his hands together before him. "Paris, there is a place that no one, not even the Queen knows of. Didn't you say that you loved the city?"

The last had been a special point, a poor attempt to lighten her anger, but to his dismay, it only made things worse. Christine said nothing, but a strange sound, something caught between a snarl and a scream issued from her throat. She surged forward and shoved Erik out of her way.

As Christine slammed the door to her bedroom, Erik turned to Trapoi. The man's eyes were open, and a strange triumphant smirk rested on his lips. "She hates you now, yes? Good. I consent that you have beaten me, but at least tonight you will not enjoy your prize!"

Erik felt no need to argue with him. Even with the language barrier, it would have been obvious that Christine was furious with him. He felt the blood seeping from his palm and ran it under the cold tap. Erik fetched a bandage out of a first aid kit and glowered at Trapoi from behind his mask as he wrapped his sliced palm. His knuckles were bruised and his ribs were sore, but he hardly felt the wounds.

"I won't bother to argue with you, Trapoi. Yes, Christine is angry with me, and I can't blame her. She's not been home more than a day before you came and ruined things, and now I must take her away to a safer place where the rest of you desert rats will not find us." Erik said calmly.

"Oh, Corpse, the things you say! I'm sure that you'll be able to ruin her life all on your own without any help from me. As for the rest of the 'desert rats', you know that they'll find you." Trapoi gloated.

" 'They', Trapoi? I would think that, after this humiliation, you would like to lead the charge yourself. Wouldn't that be wonderful, to have my blood on your hands?" Erik asked in his careful, aloof manner. He spied a bottle of aspirin in the first aid kit and unscrewed the cap.

This question had uncertainty flood the man's eyes. "No, I will be dead- you mean to kill me now, yes?"

"No. I promised Christine that I would not kill again. However, this does leave me in a wonderfully powerful position above you. I might not slit your throat, or snap your neck but Christine is in her bedroom, and if I were to force one of these," Erik paused and produced a handful of small white tablets, "Down your throat, then we both know that you would not die for several days. Of course, your body would wither and die from the inside out, the organs rotting away, leaving you in terrible, unspeakable pain before your death. Christine would never know."

"You damned cowardly, foolish corpse of an infidel…"

"But, no." Erik pocketed the white pills and shook his head. "No, I will do none of those things, Trapoi, because of the promise I made to my wife. I won't kill you, but I will leave you to a fate worse than death. Imagine what the Queen will do to you when you are returned to Tejar, defeated by me and, ultimately, empty-handed."

Trapoi's face erupted into fury, but before a word was spoken, he was unconscious once more, slumped to the side, out cold. Christine stood behind him, the statuette still in her hand. She dropped it on the floor, her fingers numb.

Green eyes of anger settled on Erik. "I've packed all I'll need. There is a ferry that can take us to Corsica, and from there maybe we can get a flight to the mainland."

Erik's eyes had gone wide behind his mask, both in surprise at her violence to Trapoi and her cold manner. "Christine, I-"

She raised a hand, "Save it, all right? I have to leave behind my home because of you, and _them_. Maybe you have no problem doing that, just dropping everything and moving on, but I'm not like you, Erik. I have friends here that I haven't even spoken to yet, and now I'm forced to leave before palace guards or assassins or whatever the hell they are come barging in and kill the both of us. I'm leaving a message for Raoul- if he hasn't come around the house looking for me yet, he will soon. I want him to know how to find me when the coast is clear."

"You'll go with him when it's safe?"

Christie hesitated. "I didn't say that. Raoul is important to me, and I'm not going to cut him out of my life for you." Her words held a quiet strength that Erik could not deny. Christine walked past him and slipped out the front door. Erik took a few moments to jot down a message and leave the page beside Trapoi's slumped form. If the police found him, they would know he was an intruder and would need an Arabic translator for the interrogation.

If other Tejans found him, they would know that he was a dead man.

His bag was in the living room, and Erik paused to pick it up. Christine was already out the door, and several steps down the driveway, dragging a large suitcase behind her. It seemed to be a great burden to her, and Erik was ever a gentleman.

"Would you like me to-"

"No! Just don't talk to me for a while, all right? I'm going to the post office first, and I'm going to send a message to Raoul and Meg. Can I trust that no assassins will jump out and take me again when we get there?" She demanded.

Christine was unreasonable, furious and aggravated with him. Erik knew little of women, but he thought that now might have been a good time to simply do as she said.

* * *

Christine dragged her suitcase into the small post office and smiled at the clerk behind the glass. "Hello, I need a few sheets of paper and two envelopes please," she asked. 

Erik thought that perhaps the long walk had allowed her to cool down, but as she glared at him when she turned around, he thought not. It was only he who received the brunt of her anger. He stood away from her, beside her suitcase, and tried to give her space for privacy.

Christine sat down on a bench and began to first write out a quick note to Meg.

**Meg,**

**I'm so sorry about everything, I know that you and Raoul have been worried about me, but I promise you that I'm all right. I met a man last week and he swept me away to be married!**

Christine shrugged. She glanced down at Erik's golden ring and thought that at least it was a partial truth.

**We'd only just come back for a few days when my house was broken into- don't worry, we're doing fine, but my husband is taking me away to Paris. I don't know how long we're going to stay there, but it will be for a month or two at least. You have my e-mail address and I promise you that I will be in touch as soon as I can.**

**All my love,**

**Christine**

Rereading her note, Christine folded it and sent it off. Erik was standing beside her luggage, his head bowed so she couldn't see his eyes and his pale, spidery hands were clasped together before him. Christine hadn't meant to take all her anger out on him, but she wasn't ready to forgive him yet for dragging her into all this intrigue and danger.

She raised her pen, about to start the letter to Raoul, when she glanced at the wall to see her own face was staring back at her! She stood from the bench and looked closer- it was a missing persons flyer!

Christine pulled it from the bulletin board.

**Missing Persons Alert**

**Name: Christine Daae**

**Hair: Black**

**Eyes: Green**

**Height: 5'8"**

**Weight**: **125**

**Missing Since: August 29, 2006**

**If you or someone you know has any information, please contact the French Investigative Authority. The De Chagny family is offering a 1,000,000 Euro reward for her safe return. Please call 1-800-123-4567 with any information**.

Christine stared at the flyer, speechless. _'Raoul! You did this for me? I can always count on you, can't I? You're a wonderful friend, but we have to call off_ _the investigation! If I'm spotted, Erik could be arrested, and who knows what he'd do if they tried to jail him?! Erik's violence would ensure that he be caged for the rest of his life! I can't let that happen!'_

She tossed the flyer in a trash bin and quickly set about to writing her note. The faster the letter was given to Raoul, the faster he'd call off the authorities.

**Raoul,**

**I saw the flyer in the post office but I have to tell you that I'm all right. I met a man and we eloped to Paris. Please, call off the police. I've also written a letter to Meg and you can both reach me by e-mail. My husband and I came to the island but a policeman told us my house had been broken into so we've gone back to the mainland. I will be in touch as soon as I can.**

**Love,**

**Christine**

She stuffed the letter into its envelope and sent it off. Her anger at Erik had lifted and Christine berated herself for yelling at him. _'The man doesn't have enough on his mind right now, you need to yell at him all day and make him feel even more guilty? He's as helpless as you, he didn't make any of this happen, you're in this together!'_

Christine went to him then, and lightly touched his arm. The scuffed garnet mask rose to look at her. His amber eyes were unreadable, save for their eternal longing. "Erik, I'm sorry. I was so angry, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You were right from the start- it's not safe here. If they were able to steal me the first time, then they'd have no problem doing it again. I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"

Tentatively, he raised his hand to hers, and he lightly touched her palm with his fingertips. His voice was quiet, almost strained. "Of course Christine."

She knew that her anger had weighed down the mood- it seemed that they wouldn't be able to recover their companionship of the night before, when they'd watched the film together. She tried to regain herself, focus on the future, and not cling to the past.

She had no idea was what coming, and a small, reluctant part of her enjoyed the adventure that this strange man was leading her on, but she could live without the constant fear and very real danger. Life had been mind-numbingly boring before Erik, but he wasn't worth the risk of her life, was he?

"Well, now my messages have been sent, will you tell me where we're going?"

"My home is in Paris, Christine. The family home. You are my wife, and it's time I brought you home to meet my mother."

* * *

It was a long time to get to Erik's family home. A ferry to Corsica, a taxi to the airstrip, the airplane to the mainland, and finally, another taxi through Paris. Christine had insisted on wearing a scarf tied over her head and alarge pair of sunglasses. Erik had not understood, but once she'd explained about the missing person poster, he felt surprised that she would go to such lengths to protect him. Perhaps hope was not lost... 

Erik had not said much to Christine, but to explain their itinerary. Most of his words were issued to the people involved in their transport- his requests were curt and direct. She had no idea how he paid for all the arrangements, but with such extensive travel, Christine became too exhausted to care. She slept on the airplane as Erik watched over her.

'_Am I doing the right thing in bringing her home to Mother? Surely not! Mother will tear into her when she's tired of berating me…that is, if she has the energy. I'm sure that my latest failures as a son and man will come to light the moment we walk in the door._'

Erik sighed lightly; a strange leaden feeling was spreading throughout his stomach. He already recognized it for what it was- **dread**. He dreaded to see his mother, not for her words to him, but for the secrets she would undoubtedly reveal to Christine. He looked over to her.

The late afternoon had bathed the city in sunset light- every building was painted in shades of golden pinks. Christine was dazzled. When they had taken the time to speak together, she had gone on and on about her love for this city. Its art, its architecture, its fashion and culture. Truly, she'd been starved for it all on that tiny island community.

Even now, her face was pressed towards the window and a smile was written over her face as the cab passed through the city.

'_I will give you everything, Christine, everything that you're owed. The world, anything you could want, nothing will be beyond reach…you know what I want from you. Such a simple thing, but something I've been decades denied. I've tried to protect you, can you try to love me?'_

He shifted in his seat. It had been a difficult day; his muscles were cramped from the small cab. His patience was stretched thin- so many strange looks from the people he'd had to deal with- several of them, he knew, had been ready to refuse them service.

'_Money is the all powerful equalizer,'_ Erik mused. True, he'd had to pay the travel attendants more than he liked, but it was of no matter. Once they'd settled in at home, in Paris, the matter of money would be resolved, and Erik would be better able to provide Christine with all the gifts he could give. He frowned. As of right now, however, after so much under-the-table tribute to the travel attendants, Erik would scarcely be able to afford the dirtiest of hotels.

'_Not that I would dream to have you lodge in one, my wife,'_ he thought.

Erik recognized the street where the cab turned with an instinct of homecoming. The driver had turned off from the more crowded avenues and was now navigating his way through a more secluded tree-lined lane. The trees were much larger than Erik remembered, but then again, he hadn't been back home for years. The lane was narrow, but short, and after a minute the trees opened up to reveal the fine chateau that his mother had taken over several decades prior.

Christine gasped, "Erik, this is your home?"

The chateau, strangely, had seen better care when Erik had resided in the top rooms of the attic. His eyes narrowed as he looked the front yard over while the cab circled the driveway and pulled up to the front entrance. Most of the yard appeared overrun by weeds and wildflowers. The large fountain that rested in the circular garden was almost covered in algae and a bird's nest had been built into the cradle of the fountain statue's arms.

'_Good God, Mother! Could you not have hired a gardener? Where has my money gone?_' _This house is a ruin of my memories!'_

Erik thought of the large sums of money that he'd been sending every month since his departure from France and he became highly irritated. By now, the money had certainly amassed to over three million euros, but how had she spent it?

Erik took Christine's suitcase and then hefted his own bag. "This is my home, but this is not how it looked when I left. It was beautiful, my mother adores beautiful things even more than I. Mmm, she made my first mask, you know…from a cut of fine suede…"

He seemed to drift for a moment, but then sighed heavily and went to the door. Christine had not harbored any warm or sympathetic feelings towards Erik's mother- she didn't know the woman and already Christine hated her! Initially, Erik had been a mystery, with no family or friends, no past to speak of- he just _was_, and always had been. But now, to know that Erik had known his mother, that he had a family home and even though that home had seen better days, it was obvious that he'd come from old wealth.

How had Erik been born into what must be a rich, educated and cultured household, and never known a scrap of affection?

Christine was no fool- Erik would not have reacted the way that he had over a kiss on his hand if he had known love before. Perhaps because of his face, he'd not known a woman, but a mother's affection should have touched him. Christine felt a hot spear of anger drive through her heart at the woman who had denied Erik everything.

It was because of this woman's withholding that Christine would never be free of Erik's love.

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Erik opened the front door and stepped inside. Christine followed, feeling as if they were a pair of cat burglars about to make a great heist. The front hall was dark, but light was coming down from the upstairs floors. Glancing up, Christine could see that there were four tiers to the grand home, and it stretched far in every direction.

Erik set down their bags in the foyer and flipped on a light. The front hall came to life before their eyes, but a great amount of dust veiled all of the finery in the main salon, from the outdated furniture and windows to the faded paintings on the wall. Christine took a step forward and was instantly caught up in a large spider web.

"Argh, gross!" She cried out.

Christine hastily brushed at her skin, but she could still feel the silky spider thread clinging to her arms. Erik laughed at her. "Oh, shut up, Erik, it's not funny!" She snapped.

"It's a little funny," he replied.

Christine shrugged, "Well, now that your giggles are out of the way, where's the lady of the house?" She pointed up. "Up there?"

"Most likely. Christine…my mother has not been well for some time now. I don't know what she will say, but-"

"I don't care what she says, I won't take it personally. Don't worry about me, I'm a big girl. Let's go up there together, you have to let her know that you've come home before someone calls the police on us for breaking in, they'll think we've come to rob the house!" Again, Christine's attempts to lighten his mood seemingly fell on deaf ears. Erik's eyes narrowed behind his mask in a way that let her know he was smiling, but the man said nothing.

Erik reached out to take her hand, and he brought her palm to the cold, frozen lips of his mask. There was no embarassment or hesitation in his voice when he spoke. "Christine, you know that I've fallen in love with you. I have, and I know that you don't return my feelings, but I see in your eyes what no one- not even my mother- has shown me."

Christine stared, transfixed by the sudden intimacy between them. Erik initiated a kiss of sorts, the only kiss he could bear to give- the kiss of his mask. He was very close, so close that the linen of his shirt brushed the narrow strip of exposed skin at Christine's waist. Such a small touch, but it sent shivers up and down her spine and gooseflesh coursed over her body.

The question was out before she could stop herself. "What do you see, Erik?"

"Caring, and kindness. Thank you, you are the first. I do not believe in any gods, but you've made me want for heaven, and that heaven is Christine Daae." His voice was soft, but so sincere.

She embraced him then, wrapping her arms around him there in the dusty hall of his ruined home.

Erik stroked a hand up and down her back, stroking her as he would a favored pet. He did not wish for the moment to be broken, but all things must meet their end. "You there! Is that Master Erik?"

Christine broke from him first, very startled, and they both looked up to see William, his mother's keeper looking down on them. "William, yes, the prodigal son returns," Erik called up to him.

This William, from what Christine could see, was a portly man with thinning gray hair and a friendly smile. Erik mounted the stairs and she followed after him. As they came closer, William came into better focus. He had warm brown eyes and a slightly crooked smile. He appeared smartly dressed as he was in his uniform, and Christine had not been able to see it from the ground floor, but she saw now that he was leaning heavily on a fine black walking cane with a silver-plated handle in shape of a wolf's head.

The cane must not have been part of William the last time that he and Erik had been face-to-face, for he wasted no time in asking, "What's happened to you?"

William glanced down and twirled the cane a few times. "Oh, nothing new. Just growing old. That old injury of mine came back to haunt me is all. Enough about me, sir, can I bring you anything?"

Erik shook his head. "No thank you, I'm fine, but perhaps she might-"

William seemed to notice Christine for the first time. "Oh! You're not alone, are you? Who is this lovely young lady?"

Christine smiled. "Hello, I'm Christine Daae, it's nice to meet you,"

William brought her hand to his lips. "The pleasure is all mine, mon cher." He greeted her with a wink.

Christine couldn't help the flattered laugh that escaped her throat. _'What a charming old flirt!'_

Erik shifted beside them and purposefully cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you William. Is my mother in?" He asked briskly.

Christine paused at the evident jealousy in Erik's voice and his burning amber stare. He moved to claim her in the basic sense, curling an arm around her waist, warning William that Christine was in his possession. She didn't know why, but the idea excited her- _to be claimed, possessed, loved_…

William had known Erik for a several years before he left France, but Erik was not so different from men as he liked to believe. It was a blatant warning to back away from Christine, this beautiful girl that had snared Erik's attention. Naturally, William's flirting had been harmless, and he had no intention towards the young stranger, but all the same it was interesting to see the other man's jealous reaction.

"Oh, yes sir. I was just in with her before I came out to find you. She's in the study, if you'll follow me," William limped on his cane as he led the way down a long, similarly dusty corridor. Erik did not remove his arm from around Christine's waist. She wondered oddly if he was angry with her for indulging William's playful flirting.

"Let me just announce you,I'll be out in just a moment," William stepped into a doorway while Erik and Christine waited in the hallway.

Once they were alone, she turned to him, "Hey, is everything all right?"

'_Everything is perfect, my love! The damn manservant, a crippled old man can kiss you when I cannot! Perfect!'_

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, Christine. I'm sorry, I didn't meant to be so abrupt. I'm just tired, and I know that my mother will be less than thrilled to see me."

Christine brought a hand to his arm. "Don't worry about her, Erik. I'm here with you,"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he put his hand over hers. "That is worth everything to me."

William stepped out of the study, but he left the door open for them. "She will see you now, sir."


	11. The Family Latour

William left the three occupants of the study to talk, thankfully closing the door as he left them to speak alone. Christine let her eyes wander about the study. Unlike what she had seen of the house, this study room was free of dust and stale air. The room was scented with cinnamon potpourri, and soft light came from several lamps placed around the room.

Shelving cases were placed against the walls, but there was no sign of any books. Rather, the shelves were lined with what Erik might call "beautiful things". Jade statuettes, small gold boxes covered in jewels, porcelain dolls, bottles of designer perfume -most of them unopened- and a constellation of jewelry: ruby necklaces, sapphire pendants, diamond bracelets, emerald earrings…despite never before being presented with such a great number of jewels, Christine had no doubt that there was at least a million euros worth on the first shelf alone.

Mixed paintings and framed photographs filled the wall space and a small crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Christine turned to Erik when she noticed several jeweled masquerade masks- she wanted to ask him about them but his attention was focused across the room, on his mother.

Christine hadn't known what to expect, though after seeing the derelict state of the house she might have imagined that they would find a modern day Miss Havisham in the house, a madwoman wearing a lavish white gown, surrounded by a decayed wedding feast.

The reality was unexpected. Erik's mother was beautiful, young.

'_Flawless!'_

The woman was standing behind a large marble desk at the other side of the study; her face was smooth of wrinkles save for the slightest of fine lines at the corner of her eyes. _And what eyes!_ Crystal blue orbs, sharp and clear, were set into the creamy, golden skin of her face. High, delicate cheekbones emerged softly, enhanced by expertly applied makeup. A long cascade of champagne locks crowned this lovely face. Her pointed chin was raised; her full, glossed lips pursed gently. Perfectly arched eyebrows were drawn together.

Christine watched as mother and son silently assessed each other. Erik had no face to read, but his posture was rigid and his hands were clenched. The woman was not happy to see Erik back at home. She adjusted the cuffs of her smart Chanel jacket and then spoke with the voice of a blizzard. "Erik, why have you come back?"

'_Ah, yes mother, I expected nothing less,'_ Erik thought sullenly.

Erik cleared his throat. "I was in the neighborhood. I see you've been well, though I can't say the same for the rest of my house,"

"No thanks to your shallow pockets!" His mother retorted.

"I sent as much as much as I was able, every month. You should have told me more money was needed to care for the grounds," Erik returned calmly.

"Oh, and have you come to spend your time snapping at workers and banging away at the piano? I could never! Think if I'd had company, what would they think of you?" She sneered.

"Your company has been a slew of men in and out of this house for as long as I can remember. Perhaps you didn't wish for me to come home as the age of your son would betray the age of yourself." Erik said evenly, his temper seeping into his words. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely reminded of trading barbs with the Queen of Tejar.

"You're such a miserable bastard, Erik. Do not blame me for your jealousy. Now, you've been away for decades, tell me the real reason that you've come back- no more lies."

Erik sighed. The long day was beginning to catch up with him, and his mother's hostility was not helping. He longed for a warm, quiet night spent alone with Christine- nothing more, nothing less.

"I've come home, mother, because there is nowhere else I can go. Now that I've come back, I will restore the house, and in doing so, give my wife a secure place to live." Erik explained, gracefully gesturing with his hands.

His mother's perfect cool shattered at the mention of his having a wife. Erik stepped aside to reveal Christine. "Christine, this is my mother, Giselle Latour." Erik said, by way of introduction.

Giselle's eyes had widened to twice their size as she looked upon Christine, but she recovered quickly and doubled her hatred. "Your _wife_, Erik? Good God, now I know where my rightful funds have gone!"

Giselle turned to her supposed daughter-in-law. "Tell me, Christine, how long have you been overcharging my son?"

Christine faltered, taken aback. "What- overcharging?"

"Yes! Lord, I knew that you would eventually try to buy beauty but of course you haven't dropped a euro on brains, Erik. You are a pretty girl, Christine, but you must be blind to Erik's hideous face," Giselle sneered at her.

Christine was speechless, so surprised at Giselle's hostility that she couldn't even muster any anger. _'You are the woman that gave birth to Erik. You raised him, he is your son- how can you be so cruel?'_

Erik made to speak up, but Giselle interrupted. "Oh, I understand. You've also bought her silence along with her body, haven't you Erik? She's never seen you, or hasn't even the sense to ask you to remove your mask. I imagine that you must keep the lights off whenever you force your body on hers!"

"That's enough, Giselle," Erik hissed.

"It's been years, Erik, but I still remember what you said to me the day you left. _I'll travel the world for love, _those were your exact words, and I know that you remember them as well." Giselle turned her ice blue eyes to Christine.

"I see your 'wife' wears my ring- you can buy a wife, Erik, but you could never buy her love!"

* * *

Giselle's words echoed through Erik's mind, ringing off his heart. He felt horrible- exhausted, restless, humiliated, frustrated, empty…his mother had thrown abuse at him for the whole of his life. 

The insults Erik could take; the things his mother had said about him, none of it was new. He had become numb to her insults years ago; however, the things his mother had said were made worse, magnified tenfold by Christine's presence. The words cut into his heart, tearing and twisting his leaden stomach.

And throughout his mother's tirade, his wife had simply stood beside him, shocked to the core that a mother could be so hostile to her only child.

Erik stood on the balcony to one of the guest rooms that William had prepared for them once Giselle's tirade had come to its temporary end. The woman had dismissed both Erik and Christine from her study with a wave of her hand, informing them curtly that she had a date scheduled with a gentleman for dinner, and couldn't be delayed by her wayward son and his escort.

Silent and pathetic, Erik let William lead the two of them to a guest room. William had worked for the Latour family for years, and while Erik had lived with Giselle, the house had been a war zone. Understanding everything, much more than any house servant should, William had stocked the room with a minibar that rivaled most hotels.

The brandy was good, the cognac, bourbon and scotch that had followed were even better. Erik had no intention to get drunk- he only wanted to drown out his mother's words with the alcohol.

How cowed Christine must think him!

How pathetic! He hadn't even been able to speak up to defend his wife against his mother's cruelty!

_'I can face off with a queen and fight assassins- but tonight I could not even stand up to my own miserable bitch of a mother. Christine. I'll set you free from my love, I'll ask you to return my ring. You deserve a man, not a mute corpse. Give me two days to get the affairs in order, and then I will provide you with all that you need. I'll provide you a fine place to live, a car if you want one, and an account worth millions. Everything you need, anything you want…'_

The neglected state of the chateau's backyard blurred in his eyes for a moment and Erik felt a hot lump form in his throat. Soon, Christine would be gone, and so would his hope. The bleak vision of his future without her stretched before him- the only thing he had to look forward to would be the rest of his life spent in the attic rooms, composing songs that no one would ever hear.

Erik would have loved to give in and cry, to let out his frustration in tears, but Christine was just inside the darkened room, reclining on the bed. She would be able to hear him from inside, and know how weak he truly was.

'_Don't add fuel to the fire with your tears, Erik._'

He withdrew further into the shadows to lift his mask. The scotch stung his throat as he gulped it down. The mask was quickly replaced but misery remained in the slump of his shoulders. Suddenly furious, Erik hurled his glass into the gloomy moor that the gardens had become. Distantly, he heard it shatter.

Erik braced his hands on the railing of the balcony and hung his head. Silent tears dripped through the eyes of his mask.

"Erik?"

It was Christine calling him from inside. _'Right. Get a grip on yourself.'_ Erik took a few quick breaths to clear the emotion from his throat and stepped inside.

Christine had watched in silence as Erik took several small bottles of liquor with him out to the balcony. He'd not said a word to her other than a pained, pathetic, "I'm so sorry," upon entering the room. She hadn't replied or tried to comfort him. In truth, she was still amazed at the encounter with Giselle.

'_How can she be so cruel to him?'_ Christine had wondered.

It wasn't right, it wasn't fair! It was clear now, as clear as Giselle's lovely eyes, that Erik had endured a lifetime of cruelty before he'd even left the French family home. It was fundamentally wrong that his mother was so obsessed with beauty; to live a life surrounded by her cruelty, it was a wonder that Erik had survived.

She tried not to think of what Erik's childhood must have been. Endless insults, taunts over his deformity- Giselle was a worse animal than a rioting mob. And Erik was so unhappy. He was desperate- not for greed, not for lust- he was desperate for simple, genuine love!

Christine sat down heavily on the bed they were meant to share that night. She had heard the expression 'love-starved' before, but had never thought of the meaning behind the expression. He had been starved of love, and in her Erik had found the hope for a feast.

He'd admitted his love, and Christine admitted that she was drawn to him- already she was compelled to go to the balcony and offer what comfort she could, just as he had provided comfort to her in Tejar.

_'What can I do to help you, Erik? How can I ease your pain, reassure you? For God's sake, Erik, how can I make you_ happy?!_'_

She knew the answer, of course. It was all too clear what Erik wanted, and ultimately needed. Could she do it, extend herself to the full limit? In Tejar, it had been about survival, but the rules had changed with their location. Christine had thought that, once she made it back home, she could find some way to be rid of him. What a fool, to think anything involving this man could be so simple.

Once she'd awoken in her bedroom, safe and untouched, just as Erik had promised, Christine had known then the scope of the debt that she owed to him.

Now in France, far away from the threats of a backwards desert people, what could she do? She hadn't wanted to think of it before, but the reality of her situation gleamed softly on her fourth finger. By the rings, she was Erik's wife.

Erik's unclaimed wife.

_'It's not all about you, Christine. Erik is hurting terribly, as his wife and friend, you have a duty- comfort him!'_

The memory of his past crimes fell away- those were lifetimes ago, this Erik was a different man.

Christine glanced to the balcony. He was standing out there, staring into the darkness of the backyard. She didn't think of her decision- it had already been made. She dressed quickly, changing her clothes for the night- another simple camisole nightset, the delicate blue of a bird's egg.

Christine ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath before calling to him. "Erik,"

She had only just arranged herself on the bed when the walking shadow entered the room. Christine had turned out the lights, but a tiny tea candle burned on the top of the dresser at the other end of the room. Its weak light added a dim, warm glow to her face.

It was an immense risk, an action that had unthinkable consequences if they went through with things. Christine had made her decision- she would offer Erik her body in a symbolic gesture of love. If he took her, Christine thought it would be an immense act. The night with Raoul faded from her mind- she was a virgin again, offering herself to a lonely, unloved man. She thought nothing of herself; she knew that Erik would not hurt her.

_'Take my body to heal your heart,'_

The room was too dark to see his eyes, and so Christine had come to rely on Erik's body language to gauge his reactions, but he was unreadable. He stood tall and straight, his hands brought together before him. Tiredly, Erik moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Christine, I'm sorry,"

He was looking at her, and while the mask held for her a smile, his voice was heavy with emotion. She moved behind him, and brought her arms around his waist. Slowly, coaxingly, Christine pulled Erik to lean back against her, pillowing his head against her chest.

Erik was tense at first but gradually, she could feel him relax. Erik's breathing evened out as Christine stroked his chest through the linen of his shirt, and began to release the buttons. He released small, whimpering moans as she let his shirt fall open and her fingertips roamed his bare skin. His skin was strangely cool, but no different than her own.

Playing it all by ear, she ran her hands over his chest and stomach, warming the cool skin. Christine did not lie to herself- she enjoyed touching and being touched. Her first experience with Raoul had been both painful and less than thrilling, but she could not deny that she was a sensual creature, a woman in every sense of the word.

The confidence that Erik gave to her with his devotion was arousing. She wanted to exercise her new power and use it to bring Erik the happiness he so richly deserved. She didn't think about the future or of any consequence; thoughts shattered and her body took over.

Moving quickly, Christine reversed her position and moved to straddle Erik's lap. Already she could feel his tumescence nudging against her as she spread her legs atop him. "Christine, what are you doing to me?" Erik asked, a plea evident in his voice.

She didn't answer, but lowered her torso down to align with his. Their bodies molded together seamlessly, a puzzle of united flesh. Christine's lips peppered his exposed neck, and a shudder wracked over his frame. Erik's hands had come to rest on her hips, he tried to hold her back, but as her lips touched over his bare skin, his resolve fell away and he gripped her tighter, anchoring Christine, his beloved wife, to his body.

Christine brought her hands up to rest over his shoulders, her long legs tangling with his, bringing their hips into full contact. "Christine, please, stop…"

"No, Erik, no. You deserve this," she breathed in between kisses.

Erik's hands left her hips to stroke up her body; the hips, over her waist, pausing subtly to brush lightly over the sides of her breasts, then up over her shoulders and down the length of her arms until their fingers were laced.

With surprising speed, Christine found herself flat on her back, with Erik's burning body resting atop her. She welcomed the weight of him, her body responding to male dominance. Primitively, she recognized Erik as a man; she could see him in a light that no one ever had before. He was panting, his entire frame on the verge of explosion. Christine raised her hands to Erik's fine hair, raked it with her fingers. He sighed and something akin to a sob barked from his throat. "No, Christine, stop it,"

Erik rolled off of her and put his face in his hands. His body was shaking, no longer with desire, but with disturbed fear. He was breathing heavily. How could she do this to him? Toy with his heart and body, bait him with what he desired most in the world? It was so wrong; it was horrible and tore him apart.

Christine still lay on her back beside him, watching as he tried to pull himself together. "Christine, what was that? Why are you toying with me like this?" He demanded. His voice wasn't as harsh as it could have been, but his accusing tone was evident. On top of all his other frustrations, Christine throwing herself at him was paramount.

"I'm not toying with you, Erik. It's just, after your mother, I thought you could use some comfort," she finished lamely. God, what a complete idiot she sounded like! Heat flooded her cheeks as he turned to look at her. Erik had held no hopes for true desire on her part, but her admission was crushing.

"You would offer yourself to me in this way? Out of pity?"

"It wasn't pity…it was…sympathy, I guess. Compassion. I just want to make you happy,"

"Yes. You were only tossing the dog a scrap from the table. I understand. You shouldn't concern yourself with me, Christine. I'm not worth it," Erik sighed. His voice had gone flat, there was no emotion left for the night.

Christine sat up and took his hand. "Erik. Since you gave me the ring, all you've talked about is how we're married, but you're afraid of me."

At this, he laughed, "I am not afraid of you, Christine. Rather, I'm afraid of myself, of what I will do to you. Do you know how difficult it is for me to refuse what you offer? No. You cannot understand,"

"Then help me understand!" Christine demanded, pulling Erik down again, forcing him to lie on his back beside her. He felt empty from exhaustion and hunger, he did not fight her firm hands as she held him down. Christine raised herself onto an elbow so that she could look down on him and prevent him from getting up to leave. "You're not much of a mystery anymore," she began with confidence. "Since I saw the painting and you told me yourself, I know why you wear the masks. Since meeting that cow of a mother of yours, I can understand how hurt you've been, what you were raised to believe about yourself. It explains everything, but talk to me, Erik. You told me in Tejar that you would give me honesty once I wore your ring,"

Erik sighed heavily and brought her hand to rest against his chest. Under the burning flesh, Christine could feel his thundering heartbeat. "Christine, how can I explain it? I've fallen in love with you, and you know I desire you. I understand if it makes you uneasy to hear me say such things, but I can't hide what I feel." He touched her hair. "I never once dreamed that I might find someone, but there you were, handed over to me on a silver platter in Tejar,"

Christine shifted, stroked his chest.

"I gave you my ring as a way to protect you, but you've been in danger since the moment your eyes opened that first day we met. Now that we're free from the Queen, I have what I want. I'm back home in France, and you are here with me. As my wife, I could take you- I want you, but I can't. I can't inflict myself on you, don't you understand? Christine, you offered yourself to me out of pity, what would I be if I took you?"

Christine was silent.

"I'm not angry. I…just wish that I could change myself for you. Be handsome, or at least be more of a man. I'm sorry, I cannot do this. I would love to hold you, kiss you, worship you with my body the way a real man would-"

Tears flooded Christine's eyes. Erik's voice was mourning a love that he could never have, and his pain ached her heart. "Oh, Erik…you can, don't you see that?"

"I can't! You don't love me! You care for me, you might think of us as being friends, but I want your _love_, Christine. I will work the rest of my life to see real love for me in your eyes." He said with determination.

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Then I'll give you something to look forward to,"

Before Erik could react to her words, his mask was lifted. Not fully removed, and thankfully the room was too dark for her to see. It was all touch. Erik curled his fingers around the wrist that had lifted his mask, but he froze at the gentle, soft kiss she bestowed upon him.

The kiss, the kiss, the soft warmth of her lips. Gentle, full lips slowly pressed against his own. There was a moment in time when their breath mingled in the darkness; Christine's lips moved against his, it was real, she was a woman, alive and unafraid in his bed.

And then she pulled back from him. A rush of cold air swarmed over Erik's mouth and the shivers reached his soul. _'You kissed me…?'_

Christine moved from him when she saw that Erik was speechless, and she got under the bedcovers withoutsaying a word. She offered Erik her body and he rejected her, but she had given him no choice with the kiss. The kiss had been simple, chaste. Erik's lips were slightly misshapen; it had been easy to tell from the feel of them. The texture had been leathery, the temperature unnaturally cool.

_'To remind you of your promise to me, Erik, I will kiss you every night,'_

Erik said nothing as he watched Christine slide under the bedcovers and eventually fall asleep beside him. _'I will earn your love, Christine. Tonight I had thought to let you go free but your kiss has proved that fate has chained you to me forever!'_


	12. The City

Christine slept peacefully as all angels do.

Erik had remained still beside her for several minutes before he rose from the bed to watch her. He didn't bother with any lights, he could see everything.

_Yes, my beautiful Christine. My wife, my love! You should sleep. It has been a long and tiring day for you. The last day of its kind, I promise._

Christine had kissed him. It had been real, of her own will. She chose to lift his mask and kiss his misshapen lips, touch him with her perfection. A moment that would be stored along with the rest of this golden time with her, his only happy memories.

Erik had been speechless, too stupid and numb to grovel and thank her for such a sacrifice while she'd been awake. He wondered what she had thought of the kiss. She had not screamed, and her expression had held no disgust or hatred- what was on her mind?

Erik decided to leave the room. His mind was tormenting in its restlessness. Of course he could not sleep. The kiss replayed over and over in his mind, his imagination chasing every possible scenario- Christine becoming so overcome with disgust that she dies right there on the spot; Christine coaxing him into making love; Christine lifting the mask and looking into his eyes, the magic words of love falling from her lips onto his…

Erik turned and walked to the door, feeling relieved somehow to be away from his wife. His mind was filled with Christine! Those penetrating jade eyes, that luxurious fall of wild onyx hair, her radiant smile, her kind and giving spirit…it was enough to drive a man insane while his heart beat a tattoo of **Christine, Christine, Christine** with every beat!

Erik took a breath as he walked down the hall and went downstairs. Again, he turned no lights. He didn't want to wake anyone, and he could see well enough on his own. The moonlight streaming in through the many windows was a great aid as well. However, he did not like what he could see.

_Look at this fate that has fallen upon my house!_

Erik growled like an animal in irritation as he looked over the state of the many rooms on the ground floor. His home was very large and with the only permanent resident being his mother, Erik could understand that several of the rooms would go unused, but really!

There was dust on every surface, cobwebs in every corner. Heavy tarps had been draped over the furniture and wall paintings in some of the rooms. Erik encountered several locked doors, and he shuddered to think of how many years had passed since the doors may have been opened and the rooms aired out.

_No more locked doors,_ he decided as he paced the house. His angel, his mistress, didn't deserve a tomb. Christine deserved a real home; to be surrounded by art and music, magic and most of all, love.

Erik's love, if she would have it.

His mother presented a problem. How could he spend time with Christine, how could she come to love him if Giselle was always about spitting her venom? That was what Erik had wanted- for Christine to spend time with him, to come to know him and perhaps, in time, come to love him.

She had proven her trust to an unthinkable, monumental extent; Christine had proven that she cared for him and wanted for Erik's happiness but it was her true love, even if only a tiny spark, that he wanted.

Not her compassion, not sympathy and certainly not her pity.

_Don't think of all that now- you have a home to rebuild._

Erik stepped into a side study and shook his head as he removed the mask. The cool air flew over his face and sent gooseflesh down his body. He took a deep breath and then spent several minutes coughing and sneezing painfully as he'd breathed in a lungful of dust.

_Gods, Giselle, how could you have let this happen? _Erik inwardly raged as he went into the kitchen- one of the few clean rooms on that floor of the chateau. Perhaps William wasn't completely useless- the old man was too handicapped to even hope to clean the other rooms, but out of necessity the kitchen was very tidy.

Erik helped himself to a glass of water to better clear his throat and began to scrounge through every cabinet in search of food. By his own admission, Erik rarely ate but a voracious appetite had claimed him. The brutal fight with Trapoi had occured only hours ago that morning, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Erik's ribs were bruised, but he always healed quickly. After fleeing from the island and then traveling to mainland France, he felt physically and mentally exhausted.

No wonder Christine had fallen asleep beside him so easily! It occurred to him then, that he had not eaten since the night before, when they had cooked a meal together, but eaten it separately. Christine had not eaten since then either, but she had not yet voiced any hunger to him. It must have been their overloaded nerves that had caused them to forget their appetites. When she awoke in the morning, Erik reminded himself to have a big breakfast waiting for her.

He stood before the refrigerator in something akin to wonderment. After twenty years spent traveling the world, and several of those years spent in Tejar alone, Erik had forgotten one of France's greatest passions- the food.

A wonderful selection was before him, and as he was so taken with hunger, Erik made up several bowls for his meal. A small bowl of cold strawberries, a larger bowl of spinach salad, a bottle of red wine and a full plate of some kind of pasta creation. Erik assumed it was lasagna, but didn't care to investigate. He was hungry, and the food was delicious.

As he sat at the kitchen island eating, Erik made a list of all that needed to be done for the house and for Christine. When dawn broke, he would need to access his French accounts and see what funds he had to work with. Being trapped in Tejar by the Queen in his secret enslavement had kept him from spending much time outside the palace walls, much less spending any of his earned finances.

There should be plenty of money in reserve, and more on the way once he found a way to benefit from the things he'd brought back with him in his large satchel. It was strange to realize that he was now unemployed. Erik would search the classified ads of the morning newspaper, but he doubted that anyone in Paris was in the market to hire him on as an assassin or designer.

Well, one never knew what there was to find in the city, but he supposed that they would be well-off for at least the rest of the year with the resources he had in reserve. When the issue came up, he had faith in himself that a solution would be found for money.

Erik munched his salad and glanced into the short corridor that led to the main salon in the front of the house. Maintenance workers and a cleaning service would be the first calls to make in the morning, he decided, and then gardeners and plumbers and interior decorators…perhaps while they worked on the house, he might sneak away with Christine for a few hours.

To walk the city with Christine on his arm, how divine! He would be ecstatic to take her to a stage play, or to a film, buy her anything she would see along the way…buy her things, what did a woman need? What did she want? He had no idea where to begin. What experience did he have in that matter, after all?

William had placed their bags in the guest room they shared. Erik imagined that Christine had taken a few mementos from her home- photo albums, surely- along with all the clothes that she could manage to fit in her case.

Erik sipped the wine and licked his lips, his large eyes roaming the kitchen. A magazine of his mother's was on the counter. _Elle_. Erik took it and, flipping through its glossy pages, ideas for Christine began to occur to him with no end.

Clothing, shoes, jewelry, perfume…lingerie…Erik's eyes helplessly lingered over an advertisement for _La Perla_, the pouting model easily replaced with the image of Christine posing before him in the satin and lace underthings, the mystery of woman…

There was a commotion at the front of the house and, startled, Erik dropped the magazine. The front door had opened and he could hear the voice of a man and woman, both giggling and talking loudly. Erik leaned around the corner for a better look.

It was Giselle, obviously a little too far into her cups; she had stumbled into the house on opening the door. It was already past two in the morning; the date for the evening must be winding down.

Erik scowled as he watched his mother and her date laugh drunkenly in the foyer. _Nothing has changed! You spend all your time in the arms of strange men! The only real difference between then and now is that you're older while the age of your dates has remained the same!_

"Nicolas, you are the most generous man in the city," Giselle gushed as she cuddled into a dark fur coat. Erik's eyes narrowed- she hadn't been wearing it when she'd left, was it a gift?

Nicolas, a strong man in his late thirties, smiled indulgently at her. "It suits you. When I saw it in the shop I knew that only a woman of your caliber could wear such a fur,"

"Do you really mean that?" Giselle asked, blushing like a young coquette.

Erik rolled his eyes. Nicolas smiled and brought his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. "I do. But as much as I've loved seeing you in the fur, I'd love to see you out of it,"

They kissed deeply then, and were soon upstairs, leaving the front door wide open. Erik reined in his frustration. _Nothing changes._

He moved out of the shadows and closed the front door, locked it, before returning to the kitchen to finish his salad and wine. _Where was I? Oh, yes, in the morning, and all that must be done…_

* * *

Christine woke to the sound of voices. Not hushed whispers, but screeching shouts coming up from downstairs. Her eyes opened slowly, and as she returned to conscious thought, she realized that she was not in fact curled around Erik, but a large pillow. 

_How embarrassing!_

She shoved the pillow onto the floor and got out of bed, following the voices. A clock on the wall revealed the time to be near 11 in the morning, much later than she usually slept. Christine peeked out of the room and cautiously walked towards the noise. As she came closer to the first floor landing, the voices became distinct and she groaned- Erik and his mother were in a screaming match.

"I don't care what you think, this is my house and has been since before you were born!"

"This house has fallen into filth thanks to your neglect- the workers are on their way and there's not a damn thing that you can do to stop it!"

"How dare you!"

"This is _my _home- by father's will, it belongs to me and I'll do as I please with it. You've had it your way for decades, but now you _will_ submit to these changes."

"Erik, you can't just-"

"That's where you're wrong, Giselle, _I can_ and _I will!_ The workers are on their way and I've arranged to pay them triple their already inflated rates if they can finish by the end of the day. That's just for the interior; I have gardeners coming tomorrow to repair the damage that your negligence has caused to the grounds. I'm warning you, do _not_ get in my way over this,"

"Oh, and what am I to do while these strangers tramp all over my home?"

"Do as you like, why not what you do best? Spend _my_ money and go on fucking any man you can find with a bankroll,"

There was a high-pitched screech of frustration and a slamming door. Christine looked over the railing to see Erik practically stagger into the front foyer directly below. "Erik?" she asked, her voice nervous.

A mask of striking jade turned up at her question. "Oh, Christine, you're awake!"

"Hard to sleep through _that_," she said pointedly.

The mask was a plain face, but Erik's voice and body language gave it personality. He nodded and brought a hand to his hair in a show of slight embarassment. "Ah, that. Yes…you may find in your time here that my mother and I do not always see eye to eye."

"Seems more like you two _never_ see eye to eye to me,"

Erik nodded as he came up the stairs to join her. "You are very astute. I'm sorry; I know that was not an ideal way to wake up. But I can make it up to you! I've made plans for the day," he said eagerly.

"So I heard. Workers are coming?" Christine asked.

Erik reached the landing and came to her, slowly reached to brush her palm with his fingertips. He didn't venture more than that, though he did pause a moment to look at as she was- scantily clad in her powder blue set from the night before, her hair mussed attractively, smiling at him.

"It...it's a maintenance crew. I've convinced them to come out and take care of the house while we're gone," he said quietly.

"Gone?" Christine asked as she followed him back down the corridor to their room. Erik opened the door and guided her inside.

"Yes. You told me that you adore Paris, and today I want to take you out to see some of the city. Anything you want! Go ahead, get dressed and then come find me downstairs, I'll make you breakfast."

Christine's stomach chose that moment to roar at the mention of food.

Erik's eyes put a smile into the mask's plain face. "Mmm. I'll go get started,"

He turned then, and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bedroom. Christine shrugged to herself and went to her suitcase to retrieve some fresh clothes. She frowned once she saw the wrinkled state of her plain t-shirts. The room had a bathroom in connection and she wasted no time in taking a quick shower.

She toweled off and dried her hair. The face that looked back to her from the mirror was not such a pretty sight. Christine hadn't packed her makeup along for their escape- she'd had no idea that Erik had had a full chateau in Paris; she'd had no idea where they were headed when they left her home. Her face seemed gaunt and her eyes were tired.

_I'm just hungry, and this week has been one nightmare after another- God, I'd kill for some peace and quiet but if Erik wants to leave the house, I shoul go to make him happy. I'll be fine, I just need to eat._

A headache was already threatening to split her skull, but again she chalked it up to just being hungry. Christine tossed on a pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt. When it came to her feet, she'd only taken her standby tennis shoes with her. _Not really an outfit for the city, but it'll have to do for now, _she thought with a shrug.

She went downstairs and her mouth instantly began to water at the scent of food. Someone was cooking something heavenly! Christine followed her nose and found Erik in the kitchen. Set before her was a small feast of omelet, sausage, fruit, toast and coffee. Her eyes went wide at the sight, "Oh, Erik, you're wonderful…" She breathed as her stomach growled.

He looked at her for a long moment before he motioned to a chair and set a plate before her. "You'll need your strength today, my pet."

Christine liked the endearment and didn't hesitate to dig in to her breakfast. Happily, she remembered that the last time they'd eaten together was in her island home. She wondered if they might ever cook together again, and someday maybe even eat together, without fear of Erik's true face. "Care to share what you've got planned?"

"I'd rather not ruin the surprise. Eat. I'm going to check in with William and leave my instructions with him," Erik disappeared then, and Christine ate. Once her stomach was full, her mood improved tenfold. The headache disappeared, and she felt her energy return. She was Christine again.

No sooner than her plate was clean did Erik return for her. He stood before her and took her hands. The smile was in his eyes, "Oh, Christine. Today the city is yours."

* * *

Christine had been to Paris only on a few special occasions- several of them being to accompany her father whenever he came up to the mainland on business. Even then, there hadn't been much time to absorb the culture and remarkable sights. 

Erik had said that the city would be hers, and he had never lied to her.

Just seeing the sights of the Eiffel Tower and some of the lesser-known monuments such as the Arc de Triomphe and Sainte Chapelle had been amazing. She'd never dreamed that she might tour the City of Light with such a strange companion.

Christine glanced up at Erik beside her and smiled to herself as they walked down a street, arm in arm. He was so happy to share his home with her, and she felt proud of herself for becoming the bright spot in his otherwise dreary and blood-soaked life.

There was an immense weight to her place in his life now- Christine thought of herself as Erik's muse, and because of his intense devotion, she took it as a duty upon herself to be as beautiful, desirable and kind to him as she was able. It was a dangerous thing to be a man's only hope, but Christine had always gone into things headfirst- to her, it was the only way to truly live her life.

They had passed several designer boutiques, and Christine only had to pause to admire a dress in a window or a piece of jewelry in a display case and Erik would turn to her, saying, "If you want it, it's yours! Just say the word, and you'll have one in every color,"

To which Christine would only shake her head and laugh. Soon she would have to go shopping for a new pair of shoes and a few new shirts, but of course she had taken her wallet with her when they had left her home; when the time came for her to go shopping, it would be at regular department stores, not designer boutiques, and she was more than able to pay for herself.

Erik had done far too much for her already; he'd risked his life to save her, Christine didn't want to add a running tab in her debt to him.

After many hours, they stopped before a fountain square and Erik gave her a handful of euros. "Why don't you go off and have some lunch? I'm sure you must be hungry."

Christine shrugged. "I am, a little. What about you?"

"Mmm. You go ahead and eat; I'll meet you back here in an hour. I have a bit of business to tend to is all."

Christine was slightly disappointed that they would break company, no matter how short a time. She genuinely enjoyed Erik, he was a remarkable man. Still, she knew before even asking that Erik would refuse to eat with her. He would not remove his mask in public or in private and she had no true desire to see his face.

She nodded and shrugged in her casual way. "All right, I'll see you in an hour,"

Erik nodded and turned to walk off in the opposite direction.

_What business does he have to take care of?_ She wondered. _Oh, he's probably going to check on the progress at his house. Ha! I'll bet they haven't even worked through the first layer of dust yet!_

Christine glanced down at the money that he'd given her for lunch and she gasped. There was nearly 1,000 euros in her hand! Quickly, she pocketed the money and looked around. Erik was gone, out of sight.

_With this much money, I could take a taxi to the airport and get a ticket to anywhere in Europe…but I don't want to, _she realized. Christine knew now that she was safe, and no matter her reasons, she knew that she couldn't hurt Erik in such a way.

If Erik returned in an hour and she did not, Christine knew that he would be distraught, blaming himself for her disappearance. He was too kind and Christine cared too much for her strange hero to abandon him so callously.

_No, I'm not like all the others. For his sake, I can't be._

Christine patted the bulge of money in her pocket and glanced around, looking for a restaurant. She wasn't terribly hungry, so she walked further down the street until she came upon an outdoor café. A pleasant-faced red haired waitress sat her at a table that faced the busy sidewalk. As a croissant was eaten and her cappuccino was sipped, Christine watched as people passed her by.

Paris was a cosmopolitan city, and so she was treated to the sight of all kinds of people walking down the street. Perhaps because the city was such a mix of cultures and oddities, no one had made a scene over Erik's mask. Well, he was a strange sight, but hardly worth a second look when compared to the street performers and monuments that attracted the tourists.

The mask was no bother to him; certainly Christine had grown accustomed to Erik's habits by now.

Once she finished her coffee, Christine let her eyes wander and as she glanced across the street, her eyes went wide. Between a shoe store and a bakery, there was a cyber-café. Without a second thought, Christine dropped several notes on the table and bounded across the street.

Honking horns blared at her, but she paid them no mind. A moment later she was through the doors and sitting before a screen, typing furiously. She accessed her e-mail account and found several concerned messages from Raoul, Meg and a few other concerned friends from home that she'd left behind on the island.

Guilt tugged at her heart. Everyone was so worried about her, and here she was sightseeing with Erik. _Speaking of…_

There were about ten minutes left to spare before she had to go back and meet Erik. _Ok, first thing's first…_Christine thought as she clicked on Raoul's most recent message.

'**Christine, I got your letter but none of this adds up! I can't tell you how relieved that I am that you're ok, but I have to see you with my own eyes to be sure. Who is this man you married? You never mentioned anything about seeing anyone new, and I'm sure you know how angry Meg is about all this! Just please, please, please reply back to me as soon as you get this! I want to see you just to be sure that you're all right.**

**Love from Raoul'**

Christine cleared her throat and quickly typed out, **'Raoul, I promise you that I'm all right, but I understand that you want to see me to be sure. I can't** **express to you how sorry I am about leaving so abruptly but it's not something that I can really explain…'**

Her message went on for a few more lines, but all in all it was very brief. She apologized several more times for worrying him and not being able to tell him more, but she assured him that everything was fine and ended her e-mail on a high note, telling him how beautiful Paris was and saying that she hoped to see him again soon.

Meg's message was more direct than Raoul's note had been, and also much more annoying to read.

'**Christine, OMG I'm so happy that u r ok. Y didnt u tell me about the new guy or y u left? U gotta write back 2 me NOW and tell me evrything!'**

_I hate computer jargon, _Christine thought in irritation as she typed back to Meg, reiterating everything that she'd told Raoul. She thought that it would be nice to invite them over soon when the house was finished, but she didn't dare dream of giving away Erik's address without his permission.

Lord only knew how he might react to uninvited guests!

The screen was quickly closed down and Christine ran back to meet Erik beside the fountain as she'd promised. As she walked back up the street, she had to wonder if maybe he'd given her so much money and time to herself as some kind of test- he might not trust her enough to keep her promise of staying with him.

The thought saddened her.

Erik was waiting when she reached their meeting place. He had his back to her, and was staring ahead at the fountain's centerpiece statue, a beautiful nude woman plated with gold. Erik tensed when he felt her come up beside him. On impulse, Christine slipped her hand into his. His amber eyes held her, shining with his still foreign happiness. "Christine, you came back!"

_So it _was _only a test,_ she thought unhappily. Christine smiled through it though, and squeezed his hand playfully. _Maybe this is actually a good thing; now Erik knows that I will come back to him even if I have the means to escape. We need to trust each other..._

"Of course I came back, I've been having a great time," she told him in full honesty.

Erik nodded, his eyes narrowed as he smiled behind the mask. "It makes me very happy to hear you say that."

"How's the house coming along?" She asked as they started walking again.

"What do you mean?" Erik asked her.

"Well, that was the business you were attending, right?"

"Oh, no that was something else, actually. What do you say to a walk through the botanical gardens before we head home?" Erik asked quickly. It was plain he meant to change the subject, Christine was no fool, but she took his hand and let him lead the way.

It was only a few blocks to the south when they came upon the gardens. Christine let go of Erik's hands and bent to get a closer look at some violet flowers. "It's a wonderful garden, but it can't hold a candle to what we saw in Tejar," she laughed.

Behind the mask, his eyes smiled at her. "Of the few things that country excelled at, horticulture was certainly one of them. I think that you may find your life in Paris more enjoyable though,"

"I would hope so! Who knows what they would have done to me there? At least here I know that I'm safe with you," Christine said as she took Erik's hands in her own and laced his spidery fingers with her own.

_She does not cringe away from me...could she ever...?_

Christine stepped away and Erik followed her to a bench set in a bower formed by trees. There were other people milling about the gardens, but here they were afforded privacy. Questions had been plaguing Erik's mind since the moment it had happened, but only there in the cover of the waning light did he feel ready to ask, "Christine…will you explain to me about the kiss?"

She froze. _What?_

"Um…well, you were there, Erik. I don't think I need to describe it." Christine said, trying to be playful and keep the mood light.

No such luck, Erik would not allow her to brush aside his question. "You know what I mean. Please, tell me why you kissed me. I have to know if it was just another sacrifice of yourself made out of pity, or if it meant…something else…"

_I knew what it would mean to you Erik, that's why I did it. It was no sacrafice of myself, I really do care for you..._

Playing her part, Christine raised her hands to rest on his shoulders. "Erik. I kissed you because I like you. If you'd only let me, I'd raise your mask right now and kiss you again." She was not lying to him- to her a kiss was only a touch of lips, barely more than a handshake, but to Erik it was a gift that he'd never expected to receive.

Christine strived to make him happy; she felt powerful in her ability to please him. Erik longed for her, and Christine truly had come to care for him. As the woman in his life, his object of desire and affection, she felt a determination to heal him, to show him that he was not beyond human love.

Christine could show him true love, even if it was not yet the sort of love that he longed for.

Erik's hands shook slightly as he gripped her wrists, not trusting her hands so close to his face. One quick move was all it would take to reveal his face in the light. His eyes darted through the garden. _There are people all around, there's still too much sun…_

"No, I won't let you see-"

"I know you won't. But I will kiss you tonight." She said the words gently, but with an unmistakable air of finality.

Erik didn't understand how she could say these things to him, much less actually follow through with her word. He didn't understand kindness or caring from people. It was foreign, almost mythical to him. "You'd kiss me again? Why?"

"Do I have to have a reason? Maybe I just want to." She returned flippantly, tugging at her hair.

"You're not making any sense," Erik felt that he might die at the enormity of her intent. That she would kiss him willingly, not once but many more times, was staggering.

"I know I'm not," Christine pulled back and looked into his eyes. "I would be lying if I said I hated you. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like you, because I do. I enjoy our time together. I enjoy _you_."

She brought a hand up to cup the cheek of his mask, "I know you've never heard this before and it's easy to think the world hates you, but then you'd be wrong. I like you Erik, I care about you, and as much as you don't want to believe me, I'm looking forward to another kiss. Aren't you?"

Erik couldn't say anything for his shock.

A wind picked up the perfumes of over a hundred blossoms, carrying the scents with the angel and the demon as they returned back to the lonely chateau.


	13. The Calm

**Author's Note: The real juicy stuff is on it's way. Please read, review, but most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Erik led Christine on the way back to his chateau and as they made the journey back the way they'd come, she began to wonder about friendship and love and sex, and if it all really lead from one to the other.

She thought of Raoul.

They had been friends for years and soon after her father's death, she had turned to him for comfort of a different kind. Christine had wanted more- she had wanted an embrace instead of a few pats on the shoulder; she had wanted a kiss instead of a kind word.

Raoul had refused at first. He loved Christine and hadn't wanted her to make any grievous mistakes because she was upset over the death of her father, whom Raoul had loved and respected very much. he had respected the man too much to take advantage of his upset daughter, who was one of his best and longest kept friends besides.

Raoul had told her his reasons.

At first, Christine had agreed with his assertion that her feelings were misguided; as the seasons passed and the days shifted into weeks and months, however, Christine's longing for something more with Raoul had only grown stronger.

Raoul had eventually agreed to date her, perhaps out of pity, perhaps simply to satisfy a long-held curiosity of his own, but he had not thought anything serious would come of it. They had both been wrong and so very naive. Raoul had thought that after a few "real" dates, Christine's strange new infatuation with him would be satisfied and then things would go back to normal. They would continue on as they always had, being flirtatious friends.

Raoul had not anticipated the night of her 20th birthday, or the morning that followed.

_Neither had I..._

Once the odd pair crossed the front gates of the stately chateau, Erik led the way up the long driveway, and on towards the front door. Stepping over the threshold, they both paused to stare in shock at the turnaround undergone inside the house. Gone were the heavy tarps thrown over the furniture, gone was the dust that had covered every surface- the sight that met their eyes was that of a new home.

"Wow, they did a great job!" Christine gushed as she stepped into the large front salon. She looked upon Erik's home with new eyes. It was a beautiful house, filled with beautiful things- a grander palace than in Tejar!

Erik stepped into the salon to the left of the front foyer. He looked over the work that had been done; he reached to brush his fingertips over the arm of a new chair. Yes, the dust was gone, leaving behind fine polished surfaces. He reached out and touched the edge of a wall painting that he had loved as a child. It was a painting of a lighthouse by the sea; he had often dreamed of escaping to a lighthouse when he was younger.

Erik glanced over to find Christine by the fireplace, admiring the jade statues that he had sent home to his mother from his travels in China. To know that Giselle had left them in the salon to gather dust for years was mildly painful, but Erik's pain was eased when Christine smiled at him. Yes, she belonged here in his home, surrounded by beautiful things...

He silently extended his hand and Christine came forward to take it. "I have a better surprise for you than a clean house," he said quietly. She followed him up the stairs, eager and happy as a pup.

He led her up, up, up to the third floor of the chateau, to a door at the end of the hallway. Erik stopped, and stepped to the side, indicating that she should go in ahead of him. Christine saw the smile in his eyes and she played along with him as she opened the door. "Erik, what have you d- oh my God!"

It was a room that she had never seen before, but already she never wished to leave. An ornate, Persian style carpet covered much of the darkwood floor. The walls were matching darkwood paneling, save for the three mullioned windows set behind the large bed in the center of the room.

There were several bookshelves bursting with novels, and interesting trinkets lined the tops of both dressers that were set opposite against each wall. The bed was larger than any she had ever seen before, more luxurious and decadent, the centerpiece to the grand master suite.

The room was dimly lit, and smelled of vanilla musk. Sinful, sensual…

Christine stepped into the room, awed, her eyes drawn to the bed. She came to the edge and ran her fingers over the top cover. Soft, warm, inviting. The pattern was plain, deep blue embroidery. She loved it. From the front of the room, she heard the door swing shut. Their day had been spent together, but often in a crowd.

Erik and Christine were truly alone now.

She turned to face Erik as she slowly sat down on the end of the bed. He was watching her, the space between them a great, open gulf of silence. Christine wondered for a moment what Erik's intentions had been in bringing her upstairs to this decadent room. It had the makings of seduction; an idea that was not wholly unwelcome in her mind. She felt her face heat in anticipation; she was not afraid of him, but by the same account she had no idea what to expect.

He stood silent still, but pointed to the door on her right. Christine raised her eyebrows and went to open it. It was a large closet, stocked with nearly everything that she'd seen that day! Disbelieving, Christine took a blouse off its hanger and remembered seeing it in a window for a boutique that sold _Yves Saint Laurent _among other high-end designers. It was a beautiful blouse of fine indigo cotton and, she knew, it would bring out the color of her eyes.

Garments of all colors, materials and styles hung around her, save for the fortune in elegant shoes, which rested happily in cubbyholes along the far wall of this small side room that had been converted into a closet of couture. Eyes wide, Christine replaced the blouse and stepped out of the closet. She came back out to the main room and found that Erik had not moved.

"I hope that you like everything," he ventured timidly.

Christine said nothing, but she drew him to her and hugged him. "The clothes are beautiful Erik, but you didn't have to buy all that for me. It must have cost you a fortune."

Euphoric, Erik rested his chin on the crown of her head. His arms twined around her, idly taking the liberty of stroking her hair. "It is of no matter. I would buy you anything you want,"

The statement was simple, but held hundreds of meanings. "Your mother was right about only one thing, Erik. You can't buy my love. My feelings for you aren't for sale- whatever I feel for you now, whatever you want me to feel for you…it will come in time," she murmured against his chest.

There was no change in him, save for a small pause in his breathing. "I'm sorry. I didn't buy the clothes with the intention of buying _you_…I just wanted to give you some nice things, I want to make you happy."

She laughed a little and drew back from him. "You don't need to buy me things for that. I was happy today just walking with you. I think you just wanted to make me look like a cover girl with all those designer clothes," she teased.

Erik shook his head. "You're beautiful without the clothes."

Christine's eyes shot up, an expression of mock anger on her face. "You've seen me _naked?"_

He had, but he had desperately tried to keep that night in Tejar far from his thoughts. "No!" He stammered quickly. "I only meant that-"

"I know what you meant! God, Erik, you're so easy," she playfully swatted his arm. Christine went back to the closet. "I really do love the clothes, Erik. I've never had anything half as nice." She motioned to her outfit of jeans and the wrinkled t-shirt to explain, "This is my usual wardrobe. Anything in the closet could change me into a princess. I'll wear something now if you want,"

"You want to play dress-up for me?" He asked playfully.

"It's every girl's favorite game. And some boys like it too, now that I think about it. Didn't you ever get into costumes and things like that when you were younger?" Christine asked. She knew only a few things about him, and nothing of his childhood. She knew that there were only a few things in his life that gave this man joy: art, music, and her.

Erik sighed, suddenly deflated. "Well, I did have plenty of time to myself for making new masks."

Christine brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh, Erik I'm sorry! I'm just so used to the masks that sometimes I forget and I think of them as your real face. God, I'm such an idiot-"

"It's all right. I'm not angry with you. Don't give it another thought." He said as he moved to his dresser and removed his watch. "I'm sure that you must be tired. Go ahead and change your clothes, I'm going to speak with my mother."

He moved to the door and turned to look back at her, "I promise to keep the noise at a low roar,"

Christine laughed as he closed the door behind himself and then she turned back to her freshly stocked closet. She ran her hand over the hanging blouses and skirts when her eyes fell to another corner. Giggles rose in her throat as a blush swept over her cheeks.

_Lingerie! Wow, Erik, you have great taste,_ Christine thought as she looked over the items there. Slips, chemises, night and day sets, full pajamas and even a few pairs of slippers were waiting to be worn. They came in delicate black silk, garnet satin, violet scroll, white lace…the combinations seemed endless. All in all everything was very demure and tasteful, but no less provocative.

It seemed that, for all Erik's assumed innocence of women, he still had a definite preference in mind.

The idea that Erik had been alone, picturing Christine in lingerie was somehow arousing to her. She wanted to be everything for him- a friend, a temptress, a student, a lover, a muse- but Christine knew that taking things slow was integral to this bizarre relationship that they were forging.

_Erik has had no one. I can't rush him, I can only guide him…but then, who am I to guide anyone? Well, we can just learn together, I guess…_

Christine chose a short, plain black slip that had a lace trim on the hem. She quickly shed her clothes, and as was her personal custom, went naked underneath without a thought. Her day clothes went into the laundry hamper and she stepped out to the main room.

There was a bathroom in connection to the bedroom, just beside what had to be Erik's closet; she wondered if he kept anything other than his customary black suits inside. Opening the door, Christine found that the bathroom was just as impressive as the outer bedroom- dark marble counters with gold veining held large double sinks; a grand bathtub and shower stall were against the wall with a potted lily flower set on a shelf between them.

Christine stepped into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Glancing around, she took a towel and patted dry. There was a medicine cabinet to her right, which she found to be packed with all forms of makeup.

It was the very best of the new _Laura Mercier_ collection- Christine had read about the long-awaited line in her fashion magazines at home but everything was so expensive and so difficult to get ahold of on the island that she hadn't seriously thought she'd get a chance to wear any of it. Erik had even remembered that she preferred to wear black eyeliner. It was strange, the attention that he paid to her. Even those distant months back when she and Raoul had dated, he had bought her things but his gifts to her had never been as personal.

Christine closed the cabinet and checked the drawers. There was a new tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush still in its wrapper, so Christine wasted no time in helping herself. Once she was finished, she took a bottle of rose lotion she found on the counter with her back to the bedroom. She dimmed the lights very low and sat on the bed, then began to massage the cream into her skin, starting with her arms and working down to her bare legs.

She was absorbed in the motions of massaging her skin, and began to sing to herself as she often had when at home. There was a quiet moan from somewhere behind her, and Christine whipped around to find Erik standing at the foot of their bed.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to watch you," he said quickly.

Heart fluttering, Christine shook her head. "No, it's ok. You just scared me, I didn't hear you come back in."

The amber eyes narrowed briefly. "No one ever does. I couldn't find my mother; I think she took my suggestion from this morning to heart."

"Your suggestion? Oh yeah, that she leave the house to spend your money and mmm, find a man to spend the day with…" Christine blushed subtly.

Erik nodded. "She's very good at _that,_ she's had decades of practice."

"Did it bother you when you were younger? Does it bother you now?"

Erik shrugged, "Not especially. Giselle is a beautiful woman, and free to do as she wishes. I don't hate her as it may seem- I am a devastation to her, and I've cause her great pain. I want her to be happy, she deserves it more than you know. Her escapades only ever bothered me when she would forbid me from coming downstairs from the attic. I wasn't to risk being seen by her company."

Erik liked speaking to Christine, already she knew more about him then anyone else ever had before. The sight of her there, resting in the bed that they were to share that night, it had aroused more than simple lust in his chest. He felt as if she were waiting for him to come to her, as he had been waiting so long for her.

They would sleep together, as a bother might sleep beside his sister, but it was more intimacy than Erik had ever known. They spoke together so easily, and Christine had never cringed away from him; he felt that he had a home now, and a beautiful wife to share it with. Erik unbuttoned and then shrugged out of his shirt to set it on his dresser. In doing so, he presented his back to Christine, a tapestry of scar tissue.

"Oh!"

He turned. "What's the matter?"

"Erik, your back!"

He regarded her for a moment, but then realized, "Oh, you haven't seen it before! I told you enough, didn't I? The Queen carried no compassion for me."

Christine came forward and put a hand on his bare shoulder. "Are you all right?" She asked, taking in the sight of terrible scars lancing over his skin.

"Yes. The Queen's physical tortures had evolved since giving me these scars. She had moved on from scarring me years before I ever met you. I'm fine, I promise. She might have driven me mad, but other than that…" Now it was Erik trying to keep things light, but Christine wouldn't let it go.

"What more did she do to you?" Christine returned to her place on the bed, careful to keep her legs crossed as Erik moved to join her.

"Plenty enough. You are not the first slave given to me…nevermind. It is behind us, just as my worst scars are behind me," he motioned to his back, to the twisted skin covering it. "Tejar is over, we are in Paris now. No one in all of Tejar knows of this place. I was in Turkey when I was first approached to go into Tejar. It's funny, Trapoi and Kuma were part of the caravan sent to entice me across the sea."

"It's not that funny," Christine said flatly as she watched him move closer, her hands aching to soothe away the angry scars that covered him.

"No, you're right. It's more ironic. But still, I can give you a good life here if you stay with me." Erik said as he sat down across from her in the center of their bed. His eyes were longing, coaxing. Christine smiled.

"Who said I was leaving? I know you were testing me earlier, you know. I'm a little more clever than anyone gives me credit for." Christine said as she moved forward and lay down on her stomach beside him.

Erik remained sitting upright as she turned on her side to face him. She appeared very alluring to him, her long bare legs especially. "You've been assumed stupid by others?" He asked, struggling to keep his eyes on her face rather than her breasts or the curve of her hips. Didn't she know how beautiful she was to him?

She nodded. "What can I say? It's the price I pay for being gorgeous," she said playfully, dropping her voice to a husky whisper.

They shared a laugh at this, and Erik reached to rest his hand over hers. "Yes. You are gorgeous. Do you mind me saying so?"

She shook her head. "No." A thought occurred to her then, a strong realization. "I think you're beautiful,"

Erik laughed at her, a true laugh of humor. "You are too much, girl."

She frowned. "I'm serious. Looks aren't everything-"

"It's easy to say that when you look the way that you do. I've seen pretty girls before, Christine, but none like you,"

"I'll become addicted to your compliments if you're not careful. But I mean it. You're protective, you have a good sense of humor, you're very smart, and I'm sure that you're a talented architect and designer too. Have you done anything that I might recognize?" She asked.

Erik nodded, "Mmm. That fountain where we met up earlier today and the fountain in the gardens of Tejar…I submitted designs all over this city, years ago. I saw several of them while we were out today."

"Why didn't you say anything? I wish I had a camera with me, I could have taken some pictures," Christine chided. "See? You're very talented,"

"Talent…talent means very little when you more resemble a corpse than a man," he said solemnly.

Christine sighed. _Oh Erik,_

"You're a man to me. You're my hero, my champion! I meant what I said- you are beautiful. Even if no one else thinks so, you are beautiful to me. Is that worth anything to you?" Christine asked as she took his hand into both of hers.

"It's worth everything. Your acceptance, it's…I just can't understand it,"

"I know it's hard for you to believe. Just know that I do care about you, and I'll stay as long as no more blood touches your hands." Christine whispered as she moved closer to him, nestling her head between his shoulder and neck. She pushed against him a little, forcing him onto his back, cuddling, almost lying over his chest.

At once his breathing deepened, and Erik brought his arms around her on instinct, drawing her ever closer. Erik stroked Christine's onyx hair and couldn't stop himself from coursing a trail down the length of her spine. His hand marveled as the sleek silk ended, momentarily passing over a strip of lace and then, finally, reaching the warm, yielding flesh of her thigh.

Likewise, Christine ran her hand over his chest and shoulders, enjoying the experience of touching him and being touched by him. They were both beautiful creatures, one more drawn than the other, but both of them pleased to be alone together once more.

"You have my word- you saw me. Trapoi broke into your house, prepared to kill anyone he found inside. I fought him and I could have killed him but I didn't. I remembered you and stopped. I won't kill again," Erik promised her, nuzzling his masked face against her throat.

Christine sighed against him. "I know you won't. Erik?"

"Yes, love?"

"Kiss me."

Erik did, but only after he'd pitched the room into darkness.

* * *

So it went for several weeks, the happiest time of Erik's life. Nearly everyday, he would come up with a new adventure to share with Christine; some new excursion into the city or some new amusement to enjoy together while at home. 

The chateau property was an eternal work in progress. Erik had a vision in mind: to bring the beauty of Tejar's Garden of Eden back to his home in Paris.

It was all for her.

The small swimming pool had been drained, repaired and refilled. Erik had ordered golden koi fish with lily pads and lotus flowers to be placed in his large central fountain; Japanese maples had been planted along the sides and back of the house- Erik knew that when the autumn came, the leaves would swarm with a riot of bright, intense color. Orchids and lilies peppered the gardens, mingling with the vegetable beds that he'd arranged.

Erik never aspired to be a farmer, but even he could appreciate a small amount of satisfaction when his seeds had risen from the earth, sprouting leaves to the sun. Soon, he would be able to make a small harvest.

The interior of the house, much like the outdoor property, was a constant work in progress. Erik had done away with the old furniture in the unlocked rooms, ridding the chateau of its cluttered Baroque trappings. Decorators had been hired, the walls had been painted and new furniture moved into several of the rooms. New servants had been hired; a younger maid who was currently paying her way through art school, a younger manservant to help take over for William, a gardening service, and a cook.

Only two of the servants had taken residence into the chateau, while the others kept their homes further into the city. Erik was grateful to have found extra help in keeping his home organized, and William was just grateful not to have his ankle upset at climbing the stairs. Marcel, the younger manservant, took an equal share of William's duties.

Giselle had protested at the rapid changes overtaking the chateau, but even she would be forced to admit that the Latour home had never looked better. The young man, Marcel, was very pleasing to her. The stamina of his youth proved him to be worth every euro on his paycheck.

Still, the girl vexed her. That Christine Daae was problematic- Erik believed himself to be loved by the conniving little bitch. Giselle would have been impressed by the girl's manipulative skill if Christine had not been such a direct threat to her own devices.

_Hell, the girl acts as if the is the lady of this house! Disrespectful brat. Nothing more than a pretty face, it's a wonder Erik hasn't already seen through her ruse._

Giselle knew of their long nightly conversations. True, she had occasionally taken a moment or two to listen through the door, but she had only gleaned a few pieces of information that could prove useful in time. She knew of Erik's constant longing for the girl's love and most importantly, Giselle knew that the girl would deign to kiss him, but only in the dark.

Everyday she would watch the two of them, thick as thieves. Always running off to a play, an opera or a film. Always some new diversion, always some new gift for the girl. Erik had managed to create a new mask- malleable, soft to the touch and bizarrely realistic.

Erik had made a new face for himself, the face he should have been born with.

Still, it was a mask, but as it looked enough like a true man's face, one was never tempted to pay him much mind. Erik only wore it on special occasions due to the mask irritating his skin, but Erik was free to roam the city and live as a regular man, except for in relations with his wife.

Christine had no complaints about the direction that her life had taken. The chateau had become home in her mind, she had made friends with the neighbors and Erik had secured a place in her heart.

Love, unconditional and pure, had blossomed in her breast for her masked champion. It had not been sudden, but more a slow realization that her pity for him had become genuine affection, and from there turned to love. She loved Erik with such an intensity that she often became upset when she was left alone with him; Christine was anxious to make her admission but by the same token she feared his reaction.

He had rejected her once because he had not seen the love he'd been searching for in her eyes. Could he see it now?

A computer had been brought into the house- a new, slim laptop, state of the art. Christine used it for general Internet, while Erik mostly used it to conduct his business. E-mails were regularly exchanged with Raoul and Meg, and Erik had allowed her friends to come stay at the chateau to visit her just before the beginning of winter.

Raoul, Meg and Mrs. Giry were due to arrive in a few days for a visit. Christine had made all kinds of plans for them- sightseeing, going to plays and restaurants…even when they spent time at the house, they had a pool and plenty of room outside for sport. Christine had already explained to them in their exchanged messages about Erik's masks and odd behavior.

Christine was so anxious to see her family of friends again that she often sang to show her happiness. Erik had overheard her often, and in a new shared delight, he had begun to conduct lessons for her in his music room; a room tucked into the far end of the house, stocked with a reconditioned piano that had once belonged to his late father, a violin and a concert harp.

She was mesmerized by his mastery over the instruments, while his belief that this girl must have been sent from above was cemented with every note that rang from her golden throat.

Yes, Christine and Erik continued on, joyed to be absorbed in their fascination with each other, so happy that they were blind to all else as Giselle's eyes grew ever more angry, jealous and vengeful.


	14. The Light

'**Christine,**

**I'm really excited about coming to visit you, and it was so great of your husband to get the tickets for my mother and I. I really want to meet him and find out how he swept you off your feet! The way you tell it, he's pretty romantic, huh? If he is, maybe I'll cut him a little slack…nah, I'll still run my interrogation on him, you saw that coming! Well, I really have to go pack, mom and I send our love, we'll see you in just a few more days!**

**Meg'**

Christine smiled at her friend's letter and glanced at the calendar. Just a few more days and she would be reunited with the friends that she had known all her life. She idly cracked her knuckles and began a quick reply.

'**Meg, **

**I can't wait to see you. Erik has had so much work done on the house, you wouldn't believe me for a second if I told you how it looked on the first day we arrived. LOL. Raoul called me earlier today and he's just as excited as you are. See you in a few days!**

**Christine'**

A slight breeze tickled her neck, sending a slight shiver down her back. Christine logged off from the net and stood from the desk. She was on the third floor of the chateau, in the study that Erik had made for them. It was a fairly large room with a desk that housed the laptop they shared and there were several bookshelves lining the walls. A fireplace was at the end of the room but due to the warm weather, they had not yet used it.

Christine was looking forward to sitting with Erik in the winter, sharing his brandy and reading together or even making love in the seclusion of the study.

Erik's hopes had finally been realized- after months of learning each other inside and out, Christine's affection had grown to a tender, genuine love. Tentative, timid and uncertain, but she could not deny that she loved Erik and had also come to welcome thoughts of desire. She rose from the desk to shut the window. From the study, the view faced the backyard. It was dusk, the sky blending gray and deep midnight blue. The swimming pool below became illuminated as someone had turned on the light; a bright rectangle of shimmering pearl blue set against the gloom.

She hadn't swam in it yet.

_Maybe tomorrow, or even tonight._

Christine stared out, pondering over her new love for Erik, and how it had come to be. It was simple, really. He had saved her, protected her, provided for her; Erik was her champion and a wonderful friend; he loved her, almost to the point of worship. A disfigured man with a terrible, painful past- he loved her and had put so much hope into a girl snatched from an island.

They made each other laugh, but there was something more, something indefinable that they had come to share that went deeper than laughter or music. Erik had a way of making her feel more mature and wise to the world, he brought her above the girl she had once been, showing her glimpses of the woman she was destined to become, so long as she stayed by his side.

Strange that she had been brought from a girl to a woman by a man that had never touched her.

Christine shrugged to herself. _Well. It is what it is._

She still didn't know how to tell Erik; she might offer herself again, but what if he didn't believe her? What if he thought the offering of herself was again only borne out of pity? It saddened her that he might see her declaration of love as nothing more than a lie. Erik wanted her to love him; he'd said that he would know of her love when he saw it in her eyes.

_I wonder if you can see it already, but you don't know what to do about it? You're just like me- clueless how to say it and too afraid to say it anyway! _Christine almost laughed.

She wanted her nightly kiss, she wanted all of Erik- the kisses, the sex…

Sex with Erik? What could she expect? She wasn't a virgin- Raoul had seen to that- but it had been almost a year since that night, and though she wasn't modest or shy about her body, that didn't make her an expert on the subject, either.

Poor Erik wouldn't know what to do with her; she knew it from his kisses. With heir nightly practice, Erik had quickly become wonderful, but he had been and still remained shocked that she would lay her lips upon his.

How would it happen, what would he do to her? Did he even know how? Christine had an idea of what would happen, but the one steady constant in all of her fantasies was that Erik would never allow the light. She wouldn't make love if he wore the mask, it would be so strange, a false face on a true man's body, and not in a million years would Erik let her see his true self.

Christine had no real want to see his face, but a small voice in the back of her mind did have to wonder if Erik really looked as bad as he claimed.

_'With a mother like his, feeding him that 'hideous bastard' garbage for so many years, Erik probably thinks he's the male Medusa, it can't be so horrible! But, there was that painting on the palace wall- gruesome, but surely the artist had to be exaggerating! It's his face, and his business- it might not be as bad as he makes it sound, but I won't make it into an issue- besides, what right do I have to make him show me his face?_

Christine licked her lips- they tasted like strawberries, the lipgloss from the collection that Erik had bought for her. She often wore her makeup in a style that Erik found pleasing- subtle, but always with an emphasis on her eyes. Erik loved her eyes. She wore the sensual, sophisticated clothes that he'd bought for her and wore her hair down because Erik had a tendency to run his hand through it from time to time, especially when they kissed.

Christine had changed herself for Erik; she'd gone from a tomboy to the lovely young wife that he'd never allowed himself to hope for. She switched off the light in the study and padded down the hallway to their bedroom. When she opened the door, she found Erik was sitting on the bed already, sans shirt. It was their nightly rituals- Erik wouldn't wear his shirt, and all Christine would wear is a nightgown. They would talk for a while, of all things, and then kiss before finally going to sleep side by side.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of only a few nights before.

Their kiss had started off as simple and chaste as all those that had come before it, but Christine had pushed Erik further, kissed him deeper, harder. She had wanted more from him, and had been curious about the way he'd respond. She'd put her hands on his chest- his skin had burned under her fingertips. In turn, he had returned her kisses as best he could, and Erik's hands had encircled her waist; as if all on their own, his hands had moved lower to cup her backside and bring her fully against his body.

Christine had gasped out of surprise- Erik had _never_ been so wonderfully bold!- but once he'd heard her shock, he had released her and backed away, endless apologies spilling from his lips. Erik had left the room before she could stop him, and he hadn't reappeared until the next day.

_Poor Erik,_ she thought.

He looked up as she stepped in and announced, "I'm not ready to sleep, are you?"

"No. You know I have a little insomnia, though I have slept better since meeting you,"

Meaning, he slept better when she was in bed with him.

Christine smiled. "Well, as long as we're both so wired up, do you want to come swim with me?"

"Swim? Now?"

"Sure, why not? It's hot tonight, and I saw that you've treated me to at least a dozen bikinis- I haven't had a chance to wear one yet. You _can_ swim, can't you?" Christine asked, a teasing edge to her voice. If Erik could do magic and draw plans for buildings, but couldn't swim, she would have to laugh at the absurdity.

Yes, Christine would laugh, and then she would force Erik to let her teach him a basic dog paddle at the very least. The mask swiveled lightly from side to side.

"I _can_ swim. You can't imagine that in all my years, I'd never learned?"

Christine shrugged. "You tell me. And while you're at it, tell me all your years, I just realized that I don't know how old you are,"

"You've never asked me that before."

"I know. It's strange, but I never thought about it. You can't be too old, your body…ah, I mean, you don't _seem_ that old. Even your voice doesn't sound older than, say, 30? 35?" She recovered quickly, blushing.

"I like to think that you're as young as you feel. I was as old as the earth before I met you, because I was miserable. Now I'm happy and a very young man," he said, gesturing to express the light feeling of his heart.

"It's been over a month now, I'm wise to all your little tricks," Christine said slyly.

"Oh, I don't think so. There are still a few tricks up my sleeve that you have no idea of," he replied cryptically.

Christine nodded and sat down before him, in the center of the bed. "Somehow I think that's a good thing, but don't avoid the question- I think I have the right to know how old my husband is,"

It was the first time that she'd addressed him as a spouse, and she'd done so as a hint to him about her feelings. His eyes sparked, but he said nothing to acknowledge it. Erik was afraid that if he called attention to her slip of the tongue, she would withdraw her affection. "I'm just a little shy of being twice your age," he told her with some difficulty.

Christine's eyebrows shot up, rising into her hairline. "You're what?"

"You heard me,"

Christine stammered, "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"But, Giselle! She looks so…so…"

A smile entered into his voice. "Young? Beautiful? Flawless? She had me when she was very young. I don't believe she was a day over 15 when I was born, and I've come to understand why the house was in the state it was when we first arrived. Most of my money went towards her face and body. For as long as I can remember, she's always been trying to recapture and cage her youth."

Christine nodded, "She's trying to be new again,"

"Aren't we all?"

"Oh, nevermind Giselle, she hasn't said one civil word since we came here," Christine dismissed.

"Of course not. She hasn't said one civil word to me since I was born, there's no reason for her to start now." Erik said it with no sadness, no anger. He stated it as a simple fact, as true as the sun was bright.

Christine reached to him and hugged him to her chest. "Oh, Erik. Forget her, Giselle is nothing,"

"I could kill her if she truly bothers you," he suggested, only half-serious. "I still have my lasso- it wouldn't be breaking my promise if you asked me to get rid of her,"

Christine laughed. "I'll think about it. Come on, I still want to swim."

* * *

Erik was already gone by the time Christine stepped out of the closet. She drew on a terrycloth robe over her swimsuit and took a towel, padding down the stairs and out to the backyard. Christine could hear the chirping of the crickets and there was a soft breeze that lifted her hair. The night was very clear and very warm. She set her towel down on the patio table, next to Erik's. 

'_So, I've found his towel, but where is _**he**_?'_

The pool was lit, the only light; darkness surrounded her. Christine wondered if Erik was in the house, or maybe he'd melded himself with the shadows and was now watching her. He often watched her when he thought that she was unaware.

The idea was wicked.

Christine pulled the belt of her robe and let it slide to the ground, a soft ruffled pile at her feet. The suit she'd chosen was a bikini of dark navy blue. Was Erik watching her now, his mind and body swarming with thoughts of her?

Temptress thoughts entered her mind.

She pinned up her hair, taking time as she revealed the nape of her neck. She brushed her fingertips down her throat, over her collarbone and the curve of a breast. Sensual movements that appeared so innocent- she knew how to play to Erik's attraction if he was watching. Slowly, Christine descended into the water. It was warm on the surface, but the deeper she went, the cooler the water felt. She went in up to her shoulders and began to tread water, swimming from one end of the pool to the other.

She started at a noise. She couldn't be positive, but the quiet sound, so out of place in the silence, had sounded almost like the words "sea nymph".

Two golden spots appeared in the darkness, hovering in space. "Erik!" Christine cried out.

The twin spots flickered before coming closer. Erik slowly emerged from the shadows of the house; a dark shape taking form as it moved forward. "I was just checking on the progress of my garden," he stated.

"Your eyes…?"

"Oh! I wondered how you saw me," Erik said. "Yet another of my odd traits,"

Christine looked him over. The black mask remained, but as promised he wore a pair of swim trunks. He might have presented an odd sight to anyone else, but she had long ince become accustomed to him. He held no surprises for her, save one.

She was annoyed, however, because she knew him too well. Erik didn't care a wit about his gardens; he'd been watching her the whole time. "Quit spying, and get in the water!" She demanded.

He tilted his head to the side. "Oui, mademoiselle," he said and walked down the steps, into the pool.

"That's better," Christine said. "Talk to me a little,"

Another subtle tilt of the mask. "About what?"

"I don't know…oh, Meg wanted me to thank you for sending the tickets for her and her mother. They've never been to Paris before. They moved to the island from Provence,"

"It was no problem to get the tickets for them, I am eager to meet all of your friends,"

"Do you really want to meet them or are you just saying that?" She challenged.

A smile in his eyes. "Well, as you know I'm not the most receptive to strangers, but if it makes you happy…"

"It will make me happy. You don't have to worry- I told them about all of your, mmm, eccentricities," Christine said.

"Which ones? I have too many to name!"

"Well, first and foremost, the masks."

"Yes. What did you tell them?"

"Just what you told me, though I may have jazzed up the story a little bit," she teased.

"And just how jazzed has my past become?" Erik asked, amusement in his voice.

"Well, rather than being born different, maybe you were severely burned as a young man trying to save neighbors in a fire…" Christine said, trailing off. "Sorry, I just have a tendency to exaggerate things sometimes."

Erik threw back his head and laughed. "What imagination! Yes, I'll play along to your story, and what else did you tell them? How did we meet, Christine? I know you didn't tell them about Tejar,"

"No, I just said that I met you and you sort of swept me off my feet and took me to Paris with you," she shrugged.

"Not too far from the truth," Erik approved.

"Why thank you! I'm sure it'll be fine, you'll get along with everyone and we'll all have a great time. I'll be sad when they leave to go back home, Erik, but I truly am happy here with you." She said as she moved before him.

Under the shimmering surface of the water, Erik reached to take her hands. "It pleases me greatly to hear you say that, Christine."

* * *

**Christine **

We swam for a while longer, circling each other in the pool, a pair of hungry sharks. Hungry, yes. I was hungry for Erik- his kiss, his touch. He'd held me in the water, his grip as sure as ever. He'd set his hands on my hips and I'd run my hands up his arms until they rested just behind his neck.

_A perfect lover's pose_

His glowing eyes had held mine, his body so close and warm…

Erik wanted me; I could see the intention building in his eyes. His grip on me moved up, from hips to waist, and he drew me closer. The water surrounding us boiled.

I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted him to…

"Ah, I think it's time we turned in, don't you?" He asked abruptly.

I blinked a few times to clear my fevered mind. _What?!_

"I- turn in?"

"Yes, I'm ready to sleep now…you can stay out and swim for longer if you'd like…" Erik said. In the blink of an eye, he was already out of the pool, the towel wrapped around his waist.

"No! No, Erik, I'm coming, I'm right behind you," I said as I followed him out of the pool. I quickly grabbed a towel and stepped through the door that Erik was holding open for me, and into the house.

I glanced back to see the shimmering rectangle of light blink out of sight; darkness wrapped around us. Erik's thin hands reached to take mine in the obscurity. Swiftly, he led me upstairs. My body was flushed with excitement, with wanting. Erik wanted me too, I knew it, I could see the desperate longing in his eyes, but there was fear there as well.

Fear of rejection, fear of my withdrawal, not tonight…

I was filled with a strong sense of determination. Erik wanted this, I knew he did. His fear held him back; it could defeat him utterly- but not tonight, not tonight!

I strode into the closet and shed my bathing suit, then slipped on a nightgown. It was sensual, guaranteed to please a man's every sense. Dark blue silk, deep neckline, backless. In my mind and my heart, I knew that Erik had bought it so that I would wear it for him someday. Maybe he didn't even know it, but he had bought the lingerie for me in the hopes that I would dress for him on the night we came together, and all the nights thereafter.

Well, tonight I would wear it for him, remove it for him…

I belonged to Erik, he was master of me now- anything he asked of me, I would comply. I hoped that there would be no need for words, that my intentions would be clear. I glanced in the mirror- my makeup was still intact; I hadn't wet my face in the pool. I let down my hair.

Stepping out of the closet, I didn't see Erik right away. But then, _Ah, there you are._

Erik was again sitting on the end of our bed, at the foot. He'd changed more quickly than I had. He wore no shirt to bed; a pair of sleep trousers was his only clothing. I liked that. I watched him for a moment, wondering the best approach.

Strange Erik was staring at the closed bedroom door directly in front of him, pondering on everything and nothing. He did that a lot of the time; Erik has too much to think about. I switched off the light in my closet and the room was plunged into darkness. I could barely see him at all, but I knew that Erik could see as easily in the darkness as in the day.

He watched as I groped my way towards him. He didn't say anything, but he was looking forward to the nightly kiss- I daresay it's his favorite part of every day. My hands found his shoulder, and from there I was able to stand in front of him. His own hands rose to enfold me about the waist, twining over my body.

For several moments we held each other. His hands were warm on my bare back. I touched his mask and lifted it slowly, raising it higher than I ever had before. His body became very still, but Erik did not stop me from lifting the mask completely from his face. It was still warm from being against his skin.

The mask was tossed onto the bed, and I returned my attention to him. The hands on my waist stroked up and came around slightly forward, bringing his hands to rest just beneath my breasts. Our breathing was heavy. His touch sent shivers throughout my body; my skin felt tight. I leaned down then, and brushed my lips against his. Aside from the first time I'd kissed him, Erik's lips were warm and soft, though no less of an odd shape.

My lips lingered on his, I was purposefully tempting him, keeping things too sweet, too light; it was Erik who took things further, that's what I wanted. He was becoming frustrated by my hesitance, he needed more from me. He kissed deeper, harder, his lips hot and urgent against my own.

Hungrily, his lips left mine and moved to pepper my jaw line and neck with kisses. It was wonderful, and I felt my body grow heated to the point of fever. Gooseflesh erupted from my skin and I felt my breasts tighten as shivers ran up and down my spine. I moaned for him, encouraging all that he wanted to do with me.

_I am yours, Erik!_

Erik's kisses were desperate, he was getting carried away, but I did nothing to stop him. It was what I had wanted- Erik taking control, Erik bending me to his will.

_Take me, Erik, it's what we both want!_

I was so happy, it was finally happening! Erik and I would become lovers, and we would live as newlyweds. I could make him happy, so happy, and this was just one of the ways that I could do it. As he kissed me and let his hands roam my body, I envisioned how our lives would be different when this night was over.

We would be closer, and this, _this_, would become our nightly ritual. It was amazing, what he was doing to me. My one experience, nearly a year in the past, faded completely from my mind. I was a virgin being deflowered by the man I loved.

_Take me, I'm yours!_

I drew him in closer and returned his action, kissing his neck and lips. I touched his chest, kissed it. I felt a whisper of silk; he had removed my nightgown, I was standing naked before him. Erik's eyes devoured me, and I let him look at me, glorying in his golden appraisal. His eyes glowed, the only light in the room. His hands softly, carefully caressed my chest, touching me there for the first time. He stroked lower down my back and waist. He touched my hips, cupped my thighs.

I moaned against him as he touched me, my body was almost shaking in my want for him. I raked my nails down his chest, communicating my need to him. It was primal, instinctual. Erik pulled me in close, claiming my mouth harshly. I threw my head back, my breath coming in quick pants.

My heart was racing as he touched me, loved me. His kisses grew in passion; I felt him nip my lips, but his tongue was quick to soothe. I held him to me, pressing my breasts to his chest. Against his lips, I breathed the only truth on my mind, "I love you, Erik,"

There was a small inhalation of breath, and he drew back, but only an inch. His grip on me had tightened in surprise. The glowing eyes held me again; he was searching for the sincerity in my gaze, searching for my love.

"I…"

That was the only word he'd been able to say before the bedroom door was thrown open and we were flooded with light.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh, snap!**


	15. A Spectrum of Vice

**Erik**

In hindsight, it had been so foolish of me to hope.

Christine would talk to me, swim with me, hold my hand, even kiss me. I've always known that my true face wouldn't remain a secret from her forever…perhaps there had been a spark of hope, tucked somewhere far away in the deepest corner of my mind, that if and when the time came for Christine to see my face, she might understand and show me more of her kindness.

Light had flooded our room from the hallway, falling onto my face with all the subtlety of a Hollywood spotlight. My eyes had opened wide in surprise, but my mind had been working so slowly...I was holding Christine directly before me, and she had said the one thing in all the world I've ever longed to hear.

"I love you, Erik," she'd said.

I'd had no time to process that heaven-sent declaration before the door was thrown open, and my one remaining secret was revealed. I had been struck dumb by so many new sensations at once- to be kissed so urgently, to be touched by a woman, to have my touch welcomed to her beautiful, yeilding flesh...I couldn't react.

It was too much for me. Christine has always been too much for me.

Even now, the scene replays in my mind. The door opens, the light invades. I can only watch, helpless, as Christine's emerald eyes open wide, and she sees me. Her flushed skin quickly goes pale, gray with disgust. A horrified gasp had erupted from her throat, I can still hear it. She'd brought a hand up to cover her mouth. Suddenly terrified, her body had recoiled from mine.

A single moment of confusion had seeped through my passion- _why is she…?-,_ and a lifetime of anger had then swallowed my mind as I came to understand. _She's seen me._

My hands remained on her shoulders even as she had tried to move away from me. Blind rage took over, but I could not let myself hurt this girl. A wounded growl burst from my throat, and I shoved Christine onto the floor before fleeing from our bedroom.

Christine landed hard on the floor, but she was thankful that I hadn't hurt her further. She had seen my violence, and now she had seen my face. In one moment, she understood what a remarkably abominable reaction she had shown to a man who'd never wanted for anything except to be loved and accepted, even if only by one person.

My body and heart had been thrilled, so eager and ready to be married to Christine, my love!

There had been no lust; it had been love that I was seeking. She said she loved me…Christine had found love for me in herself; she was willing to show me the extent of her new love.

How horrible of her.

Love me, _love me?_

**I hate you!**

* * *

_The door, the light- what happened…?_

Christine was naked on the bedroom floor, tossed like a cheap prostitute. Everything had happened so fast, she'd hardly had time to think. All she knew was that she needed Erik to come back. She glanced over and quickly slipped on her nightgown, trying to regain some dignity and gain her bearings. She was grateful that Erik hadn't torn it in his quest to take her.

Her heart was sill pounding from unreleased passion and the shock of seeing Erik as he truly was.

Christine ran into the hallway to call after him, but there was no sign of Erik anywhere. A door opened to her immediate right, and Giselle stepped out. The woman was unruffled, as glamorous and preened as ever. "See anything interesting?" She asked smoothly.

Understanding dawned on Christine, and she felt her stomach churn. Adrenaline paced her heartbeat and angry blood flooded her face. "You did that? You opened the door on us?"

A perfectly arched eyebrow rose, very haughty. "I just wanted Erik to know whether or not he was getting his money's worth,"

Christine felt raw fury spike through her brain, heat swarming over her body. Her hands were shaking. "How could you do that to him?"

All innocence, Giselle shrugged. "I might ask you the same thing, Christine."

* * *

**Erik **

The masks have been a near constant all throughout my life. I don't have any memories of being able to even walk about my own house without some form or another covering my face. As a young child, I hadn't understood why everyone else could bear their faces, but I could not.

Mother had been the one to enlighten me as to why my face was so abhorrent. It was at night, I had come downstairs to ask Giselle for a story; even then I knew the slim chances of her actually agreeing to see me. She rarely showed any interest in me, let alone motherly love. It was all I'd ever wanted. I was five years old. It was late, and I hadn't been wearing my mask.

Beautiful Giselle had been in one of the downstairs salons with a date, the man she was with hadn't known that she was a young mother. He hadn't seen me, but he'd left because he had been angry with Giselle for keeping such a secret. It was only after her man left that she turned her wrath upon me with a mirror.

That was the first night I'd ever seen my own face.

After that night, Giselle seemed to take a turn for the worse. Nannies and other attendants were hired to care for me- all of them kind, but impersonal towards their young masked ward. On the occasion that Giselle would spare a moment to speak to me, it was never pleasant. It soon enough became unbearable for us to even be in the same room.

Giselle is no trouble, but you, Christine…you, you, you…

Did you know how much hope I'd put into you? You have been my first in everything- my first friend, my first kiss, my first love. I protected you, I trusted you. Christine, you took my heart and have held it from the moment we met!

_Stupid, so stupid of me to trust that you would be different from all the others who have seen me. You're just like the rest of them._

I remember shoving her hard enough that she fell onto the floor.

_Hurt her, destroy her! Does she deserve anything less?!_

I pushed her and I had been ready to do more. My blood was boiling with her betrayal, ready to beat the life out of her for daring to make me feel like a man, to make me so happy and then to show such disgust for her husband, **the man who saved her life! **

_Little coward, little whore, I'll paint this room with your blood!_

Once Christine was on the floor, she'd turned to look up at me. Her eyes were pleading, "Please, monster, don't hurt me!"

She sickened me; I had to get away from her. I fled the room in frustration and pain. I had hoped she was stronger than that, I had hoped that when the time came for her to see me, she at least would not look upon me with _fear_. What had I done to deserve that from her?!

I thought she was stronger than the rest, different. Christine, you made me _believe!_

I hate that girl; that damn Christine Daae, how could she? After all that I've done for her, she dares to look at me with fear and disgust?

I stormed up to my rooms in the attic, seeking the isolation that had been such comfort to me when I was younger. Anger was beating against my temples, a storm ready to erupt from my mind. Overwhelming, too much, too much!

The room spun for a moment and I sat down on the little cot bed leftover from my younger days. I put my head in my hands and took several deep breaths. The pain of cool, detached anger washed over me, and I raised my head to look around the attic. I took several deep breaths to find a bit of calm.

Nothing had changed.

The old Spinnet piano was still here, though by now its chords were shot to hell, no doubt. I didn't care; it was all gone, it had left me, one by one- no art, no music, no beauty, no friend, no love…

The fury was gone, replaced by cold anger and an all-encompassing sorrow. I felt something akin to loss, mourning; my chest felt swollen and my stomach clenched painfully within me. The storm of rage continued to throb just behind my eyes. I cried. I had lost everything in one moment of light; the loss of my hopes for Christine, and perhaps more importantly, the loss of the friendship we'd built.

No matter what mask I wear now, Christine will always remember what it is that wears them.

She will remember my anger, she will fear for her safety. She's disgusted and repulsed by me, and no doubt disgusted with herself for thinking that she could have loved me and for a few precious moments in time, could have given herself to me.

_I should have fucked her in Tejar,_ I thought bitterly, fresh fury coursing through my veins. My fist found its way into the wall, my knuckles bled. _Stupid, scared little brat, I hate you, Christine, I hate you...I can't stay here, she's smothering me!_

There was a trunk at the foot of the bed with some old clothes and masks inside. I took an old black sweater that might have belonged to my father, and a matching mask, one that I hadn't worn in decades. I slipped them both on and then opened the center window, stepping out onto the ledge.

The sky was clear and black. I could see the stars and the city. The night was still warm, but nothing touched me, my body was numb from the sensation of Christine and the shock of being revealed into the light.

For a long time, I thought of jumping.

_Why not? Who would miss me? I am a loathsome creature; it would be a service to the world to erase myself from life._ I've had these thoughts before, since I was very young. Giselle had been the one to first put the idea into my head.

"You're such a hideous little fool, I should just end you right now- one less ugly spot on the face of the planet!"

I needed time to myself. I needed a millennium. I climbed down the side of the house, retracing the steps I had taken when I was a teenager and wanted to escape the attic for a few hours.

I left the chateau property and walked for several blocks, sorrow and anger fighting for control within me. I needed to vent my anger as much as I longed to wallow in self-pity. I was both furious with Christine, and wounded by her. She would have done less damage if she'd plunged a knife into my stomach. I feared my own violence, I could not speak with her for at least another day.

It wasn't fair! She was lying this entire time, flattering me with compliments, letting me the holy honor of holding her hand. She _deigned_ to allow me the wonderment of kissing her.

_She probably viewed the kisses as repayment for all that I've done for her, an obligation that she forced herself to suffer through! All women are whores, haven't you learned enough from Giselle?_

Stupid, foolish idiot- what the hell were you thinking? I should have let the Queen kill Christine, I should have left the girl in her father's house and been gone by the time she woke up…

I walked blindly, drawn to a particular district of Paris. The Red Light. I had come here when I was a young man, bored and restless, though I'd never done more than walk through the area just to observe what went on after hours.

I couldn't have risked someone trying to take my mask!

Thankfully, the area seems to have become even more wild and perverse since the last time I'd been in Paris. Here, a mask is nothing. Here there were streetwalkers and brothels, underground clubs and a river's flow of drugs. There was a storm raging within my body, I dared not return home for fear of unleashing my wrath upon Christine.

The dead stare of her violated body swam before my eyes, and for the first time in weeks, I thought of the dead courtesan in Tejar.

_No, not Christine- there has to be another!_

I had no desire to hurt Christine. I was both furious and hurt- that night I did hate her, but my useless love would never allow any true harm to befall her. I stalked down the street until I could take no more. The prostitutes on the street asked after me, making suggestions and calling out their prices. I might have cut an interesting figure to them, this tall lean man in a mask. I had my wallet with me- I could have had them all, but not like this, not outside like animals.

_You're not an animal, you're a man._

Hadn't Christine told me something like that once? Months ago, in Tejar...I can't remember, but I don't want to think about her. _Forget Christine, she will leave you soon enough..._

I didn't want a filthy streetwalker.

There was a brothel on my left, and I stepped inside. It was an upper class house; clean, tastefully decorated, scented of cinnamon and vanilla. The Madame came to me immediately, a handsome woman of perhaps fifty, dressed smartly in a designer suit. "Hello sir, what brings you in tonight?" She asks me this too pleasantly, as if she were in charge of a damn flower shop, rather than a house where women sold their bodies to any man that could meet their price.

Briefly, I worried that she'd question my mask- but then, these women sell themselves; for enough money, I could have whatever I wanted. My manners had been left behind in the bedroom with Christine. "I want a woman. Where is your face book?" I demanded.

The Madame raised her eyebrows, obviously not appreciating my curtness, but likely she had been one of these sold women before and so she was not intimidated by a man's demands.

Thankfully, she produced the face book and a cocktail, and then left me alone in a private waiting room to choose my whore. The room was comfortable, with a sofa set and a desk at one end. A window faced the street, it's frosted glass slightly obscuring the scene outdoors. A red rose bloomed at me from the small tube vase set atop the coffee table.

Glaring, I took the vase and threw it against the wall. A satisfying shatter of glass.

I was in no mood for frivolity; there was no room for dainty, pretty things. The eternal longing for beauty still had a hold over my heart, but tonight I needed something more. My body raged to **hurt** something, to **fuck** something- I longed to possess something beautiful, only to destroy it with erotic violence.

Christine. Christine. Christine.

The face book was a photo album of all the women available, with short profiles that told of their rank and special talents. Several of them were ordinary French, while a few of them played up their exotic origins and became archetypes: an Egyptian princess, a Japanese geisha, an Arabian harem girl…

I made my selection and expressed to the Madame the way that I wished the woman to be presented to me. My mind spun with my worst thoughts and memories as I waited. I am far from the simpering gentleman Christine thinks I am. That is just one aspect of the whole man. Like everyone else, I have evil within my soul- cold, merciless, black evil; unlike everyone else, my face can match the evil in my heart.

I didn't think of Christine anymore, I followed the Madame through the bordello house.

In a room on the top floor, my woman awaited. I had ordered the Madame to have her waiting on the bed, naked, in the dark. My wish has been granted. I shut the door behind me and allowed the darkness to engulf us.

She was lovely- a crown of dark auburn hair, skin like golden cream, pretty blue eyes, thin glossed lips.

The room was nice enough- clean, elegantly decorated save for the small security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. It was for her protection.

_Stupidity again._ If I had wanted the woman dead, she would have been before the bordello's paltry security force would even notice.

She was naked, and I could see everything of her despite the black of the room.

I moved forward and sat down before her in the center of the bed. The woman's hand softly grazed my thigh, pleasant, but I wanted nothing soft or tender. I held her wrist to keep her hand from moving further up my leg. Her eyes widened slightly, likely surprised at my cold skin. No matter.

"Hello there, what may I call you, sir?" Her voice was that of a practiced woman, low, slightly husky- an imitation of true arousal.

"Erik. Only Erik." Why could I not recognize my own voice?

She smiled in the dark, even when she thought that I could not see her. "Very well, sir. Erik is a powerful name. My name is-"

"No! Your name, for tonight, is Christine. Please, Christine."

The woman, my false Christine, seemed to understand. I've often heard that whores are wonderful listeners. "All right then, for you my name is Christine." Her hands came to rest on my shoulders, gently kneading the muscles there. "So, Erik, sir, what would you like to do with Christine tonight?"

The Madam had informed her ahead of our meeting about the mask, and she respectfully made no move to touch it, she didn't even ask after it.

I took her hands in mine, gripping her wrists, and forced her to lie on her back.

"I want everything."

* * *

I stayed away from the chateau for days. Not all of my time was spent at the brothel with my false Christine, only the nights. I learned much from her. My days were spent wandering the Red Light district, sampling the spectrum of vice.

My anger had been abated somewhat, but my misery remained. I loved Christine, but my love for her was tainted with the remembered sight of her fear. Why did she have to show that she was afraid of me? I had never done anything that she would fear me. My throat tightened and my stomach would clench whenever I recalled her face, disgusted and so afraid of me.

_O, Christine, after all we've been through together…you knew of my face before ever seeing it, you told me it wouldn't matter to you…_

I missed her. In the Red Light, I was more alone than in anywhere else in the world. Surrounded by my fellow Parisians, ignored and avoided. The false Christine was kind and as understanding as her situation could allow, but I held no illusions. I was only a source of income to her- I paid her to teach me, and got my money's worth each night. When I left, she would forget me easily, just another in her slew of nightly men.

Trepidation crept in whenever thoughts of returning home came to me. I couldn't stay in the Red Light brothels forever! Christine's guests would arrive that night, what would she tell them if I was not there? The reason of their coming to Paris had been to see that Christine was in good hands- my hands. They wanted to meet me, I had to be there for her.

God, even as furious as I am, I can't abandon her…

I wasn't looking forward to the return home, but what choice was there? I hadn't been home in days. No one knew where I was. I thought Christine might be concerned, though I doubt she truly missed me. I had hurt her that night. For all I knew, she had run back to her island and she would be wholly justified in doing that. I hated myself for hurting her- I truly was the lowest of the low, a man that hurt women.

But I had to go home, no matter what. The house had need of its master; I'd just reclaimed my place and couldn't run from that responsibility again.

Early in the morning of my third day away, I left the Red Light and walked back home.

I felt dirty, and with good reason- I hadn't changed my clothes or mask in days. Standing before the chateau in the shadows of the trees lining the drive, my eyes searched the windows. Was Christine in there somewhere, waiting for me?

"I love you, Erik," she'd said.

Did she mean it, or had it been a ploy? If she did mean it, what could she possibly feel for me now? Disgust? Fear? Or could she merely feel more pity? What had she done after I'd run from her, what had she done in the time I'd been gone?

I felt dizzy suddenly and I put a hand to my temple. There was a low rumbling coming from inside me- my stomach had been empty for longer than I was accustomed. I needed to eat, just enough so that I could regain my bearings. I worried, though. If Christine was inside the house, I ran the risk of seeing her before I was ready.

I didn't want her to see me like this- dirty and disheveled, stinking of cheap alcohol and another woman. My chest tightened in dread. Our guests would arrive later today; I had to speak to her before then. When we did speak, I had to at least look presentable in my attire.

Christine will never see my face again. Now that I know her reaction, I cannot trust her.

I moved forward and slipped into the house.


	16. The New Arrivals

**Christine**

I couldn't stop reliving that night. Everything was ruined, destroyed, thanks to Giselle. But…I had played my part as well, hadn't I? If I hadn't reacted the way I had, if I hadn't pulled away from Erik…

All Giselle did was open a damn door, but it was me that killed Erik; even as he'd been glaring at me, I had seen the anguish in his eyes, the anger, the hate and the pain. All of it caused by me, my horrible, unthinking actions.

He'd run from me, and after seeing Giselle, I'd been numb. I shut the door to our bedroom and leaned my back against it.

_How could I have done that to him?_

Erik's mask was still on our bed, a harmless porcelain face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The nightgown was stripped again and tossed on the floor, a casualty of the war that raged within the man I'd grown to love.

I lay down on the bed; my body reclined atop the covers. It was wrong to think of my own dashed hopes. I'd loved Erik for weeks, but he had loved all his life, only to be hated for it. I was nothing more than a stupid girl who'd been taken for him; I was unworthy of this, this tragic love story of his.

I put the mask next to me on the pillow. "I'm so sorry, Erik," I whispered to it. I kissed the mask's cool, frozen lips.

Erik never came back to bed, and I'd never cried harder in my life.

* * *

He did not appear to me in the morning, or in the days that followed afterwards. I had dressed for him, the elegant clothes enhancing my curves, the color complimenting my features. I wore my makeup in the style he preferred, my hair flew loose for him.

I had to be beautiful for Erik.

If he were to come see me, I wanted him to know that nothing had changed. I still loved him, I did; I loved his gentle pale hands, his glowing eyes and his hypnotic voice…his sense of humor, his music, his art, his protectiveness, his scars, his conversation- _everything!_

I often envisioned him returning to me.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," I would say. "I was surprised by how you look, but please believe that I do love you, I meant what I said. Show me your face again, I will show no fear. Show me your face again, and I will kiss you. Erik, you are beautiful to me, I love you! Please, Erik, give me another chance…"

I was willing to try again with him, eager. I wanted to kiss him, make love with Erik. It would be deeper, it would mean so much to be with him…

Happiness had soared within both of us as we had kissed, I'd felt lightheaded with wonder as we'd discovered more and more of each other. It was love like I'd never felt before and I knew that Erik had needed me with soul-deep desperation, just as I had come toneed him.

Erik had needed more from me than I had ever given to him before. He needed more than a kiss and a gentle touch- he needed my body, open and willing, for him alone. He needed the reassurance that I was his woman, that I was happy to be with him.

He'd needed to hear the words- "I love you."

I gave him that, and more. It might have been enough, if only I'd not recoiled from him, if only I hadn't shown the disgust I'd felt. God, how could I have been so horrible to him?

I heard a door open and shut downstairs as I'd stepped out of a second-floor bathroom and made my way to the landing. "Marcel?" I called, "Is that you?"

Marcel had been a surprising friend in the past few miserable days. I'd told him a _highly _edited version of what Giselle had done, the cruel trick against her son, and he'd withdrawn from her. Despite that he'd only spoken with Erik on a few occasions, even he had come to prefer the eerie masked phantom to the screeching demands of his mother.

"It's just as well," Marcel had told me the next morning after the horrible night. "Giselle's leaving soon and I've started to fancy that girl from the next house over."

I had raised my eyebrows at that. "Annabelle?"

Marcel smiled. "The one and only."

We had begun to talk regularly since then, he was a wonderful listener.

I reached the landing and looked over the rail banister. A quick shadow passed by the light of a window downstairs, almost too quick for me to notice. I felt a chill run down my spine, but I ignored it and tried to follow after it.

My ears and eyes strained for a sign of life. William had gone off with the maid for groceries, Giselle had left already, thank God, and Marcel had snuck off last night to spend time with Annabelle- was it him sneaking around down there after a tryst with her?

"Marcel? If it's you, don't worry about Giselle, she's gone," I laughed. I felt foolish, chasing shadows and apparently talking to myself as I moved from room to room. I heard slight noises, just the faintest sounds of movement, but I couldn't see anyone.

The game was quickly losing it's appeal.

"All right, fine, Marcel- you and your games! If you need me, I'll be in my room," I called out.

I did like Marcel, even if he'd given in to Giselle's charms when he was only hours into the job. Thankfully, he'd seen the bitch behind the Botox, and had cut out his extra duties with her. He was handsome. Tall, slightly tanned, with curly brown hair. At 28, he was a catch, using this job to pay for school just as the maid Sophie was. They were both art majors and I'd seen their sketches, they put Erik to shame!

I started up the stairs, but stopped short and felt the tingling shiver run down my back again. I had seen something move out of the corner of my eye- a quick, dark shape. I could have sworn another shadow passed over me from up above. I looked but there was nothing there.

I ignored it and went back to my room.

* * *

By that afternoon, I was very anxious. Erik had been gone for days already, and our guests, my friends, were set to arrive later on in the evening. Their planes had already lifted to the air, I couldn't tell them not to come now when they were due to arrive in just a few hours' time!

The only choice I had was to play hostess to them until I could speak to Erik. I worried what he would do if he should come home to find strangers here; I could only hope that he wouldn't do anything strange or even worse, violent.

By 5 o'clock, I was pacing the front foyer, my stomach a giant jumble of nerves and my temples were pounding. I glanced into a mirror, satisfied with the way I looked, but the constant worries plagued my mind.

I needed to see Erik, but what could I say? Even if I could speak to him now, there would barely be any time for us to be alone before everyone arrived.

"You'll wear a hole in that floor before William brings your friends,"

I turned to look at the staircase leading up to the second floor. Marcel smiled at me. "I won't wear down the floor just yet," I said. "I'm nervous."

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, like you don't know! My friends will be here soon and I haven't even seen Erik since that night. He was so angry with me, so hurt…nevermind, I just wish that I could talk to him and find out how to make things right between us." I hadn't meant to say so much to Marcel- Erik values his privacy even more than me, but when I'm frustrated things just spill from my lips.

Marcel was looking at me strangely, and I knew that I'd missed something.

"What?"

"Christine, Erik is upstairs. He's been here since this morning."

I stopped dead at what he'd told me, and then I remembered the shadow that had moved from room to room. "But I…I thought that was you!"

Marcel looked at me with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I shook my head and started past him up the stairs. "I thought you'd come home early this morning, I thought I was talking to you. God I'm such an idiot! You said he was upstairs?"

Marcel followed me up the staircase. "Yes, I just went up there to ask if he wanted anything. He's on the fourth floor, the attic. From what Giselle told me, he used to live up there when he was younger."

I nodded tersely. "Yes, he told me that too." A pit grew quickly in my stomach, deep dread at seeing Erik again, there was no telling how he would react to me. "Um, Marcel, when you asked him, did he seem angry?"

Marcel stopped walking beside me and I turned to him. I hadn't noticed earlier, but his face had lost some color. He had been merely amused with me before, but he was stone-cold serious now. "I think I should go up there with you,"

"What are you talking about? You think he'd hurt me?" The idea was contrary to all I knew of Erik. But then, he had shoved me onto the floor that night...

Marcel sighed lightly and wrung his hands together for a moment. "What I think, Christine, is that your neck is too pretty to look like this," he pulled the collar of his shirt to the side and I gasped at what he revealed to me.

A stripe of painful red circled his neck. It was a startling recognition- the golden lasso from that first day in Tejar!

My heart pounded against my ribcage. The golden rope…good God, what had Erik been doing while he was gone? Had his lust for blood overcome the promise he made to me? Tears filled my eyes. Of course. Why wouldn't he have dismissed his promise? He owed nothing to me.

I almost choked, but I managed to swallow the emotions in my throat. I looked into Marcel's eyes. "I'm going up to see him alone, Marcel. Whatever he does to me, I deserve it."

He frowned. "I'll keep an ambulance on standby,"

I made a grimace of a smile and ascended the last staircase, leading up to the final floor of Erik's chateau, the attic. A tall door of dark oak greeted me, the only door on the entire fourth landing. If Marcel was right, and he hadn't managed to disappear again, then Erik was on the other side.

Had he been waiting for me all this time?

Erik had been so angry that night…he shoved me down, but he didn't hurt me. He could have ripped the life from me, but he didn't. In my heart, I knew that he wouldn't hurt me now. I was suddenly angry with him, and exhausted with our silent stalemate. I knocked on the door. "Erik, are you in there?"

No answer.

I felt my lip tremble. Tears welled in my eyes. "Erik, please, talk to me,"

The door flew open and all at once, he was there. Tall and dressed in another of his fine black suits. His mask was a smooth black face, blank of expression. Erik had never scared me before, but I was terrified by what I saw in his eyes. They were cold, furious, almost…_inhuman_…

I shook off my shock at the sight of his startling eyes. "Erik…"

"Yes? What is it?" God, if his eyes were only cold, his voice was a blizzard; the frigidity was a perfect match for Giselle!

"I…I wanted to talk,"

"Why? There is nothing to say."

I was shocked at the abruptness of his words. Erik had always been so kind to me, so caring. _My God, what have I done to this man?!_

"Erik, the other night-"

"That's what you've come to address, is it? I know I frightened you," his voice had softened then, but there was an edge just beneath the surface of his words. It was a strange mockery of the voice I had come to love. "Lucky Marcel has been such a comfort."

"Marcel has nothing to do with this!" I burst out. "But while we're on the subject, what did you do to him?"

Erik moved back from the doorway and let me into his large attic. I had never been up there before. A cot bed was against the wall, with a broken dresser just beside it. A trunk rested at the foot of the cot, the lid was open. I could see several masks inside. Large windows lined the length of the space. One of them was wide open.

I heard the door close behind me and turned to Erik. He was standing still; a cold statue of black, glaring at me. "I didn't do anything to him."

My blood boiled. "Now you're lying to me. Marcel showed me the mark your rope left around his neck, Erik. He said you were acting crazy, he didn't even want me to come up to see you by myself, he's worried that you'll hurt me, did you know that? Please, talk to me." I begged.

His voice softened, only slightly- a tiny crack in the ice. "I won't hurt you, I would never,"

"But you won't talk to me, either!"

"What would you like for me to say, Christine?" His voice was biting, harsh.

I was silent. Where was Erik? This man was a stranger! I felt my body give a hard shudder; nerves and stress were finally breaking to the surface.

"I'm sorry, Erik…" My voice cracked, and a tear slipped down my face. It was the only thing that moved him. Erik took a step forward and reached a hand to mine, but he pulled back after a moment, before I could take it. No, he wouldn't let me touch him. Not now, never again.

"So am I, Christine, more than you could ever know," he said quietly.

The hole he'd opened in my heart grew ever larger. My chest ached, crushing, smothering…

"Erik, what I said that night, I meant-"

Again, we were interrupted. Marcel had opened the door and stepped inside. "William just pulled into the drive," he said.

Erik brought his hands together, clasping his long pale fingers before his waist. His mask tilted down. "Thank you Marcel. We'll be down in a moment."

Nothing more could be said between us now.

I stepped past Erik and headed toward the door, but his voice stopped me. "Christine. Before we greet our guests, I want you to have something,"

He moved over to the cot bed and bent down to retrieve a large bag from underneath it. I watched as he dumped out the contents. There were several small satchels, figurines, a silver box. Erik rooted around in the mess he'd made until he found what he'd been looking for.

It was a large roll of thick canvas.

He held it out to me, his eyes cold yet pained. "Take this. I don't want it any more."

I took it from him and handed it to the waiting Marcel, he had stepped out into the hallway. Erik followed closely behind as I descended the stairs, determined not to let my misery show to Meg, Raoul and most of all, to Mrs. Giry.

* * *

"Christine! Oh my God, you look fantastic, this house is beautiful and Paris is amazing," Meg gushed as she hugged me tightly. My heart thrilled to her, my best girlfriend in the world, how had I lasted so long without her? 

"Meg, you look great, there's so much to show you," I said, we were grinning from ear to ear, the both of us.

I turned from her and saw Raoul standing beside the front door with William. He had his travel bag, and gently set it down when he saw me. I rushed to him, grateful to all the gods to be within the safe anchor of his arms. He drew me in, his familiar scent flooding me. I breathed him in, storing him inside.

He pulled back to look me up and down in a mock appraisal. "I think Paris has been great for you, Lovely. You look ten times better than you did the last time I saw you."

I smiled and swatted him in the arm. "I guess that says a lot about how I looked before, huh?"

Mrs. Giry stepped forward and tilted my chin up to get a better look. "You were always a tomboy, Christine, now you are a young woman. I suppose we should thank your husband for this, no?"

"No."

We all turned to Erik's sudden appearance- where had he come from?

I was worried, terrified by what my friends might say at being presented with this bizarre man. Dressed in a smart formal suit, pale hands clasped before him, always masked- he made for and interesting sight, to say the least.

"No, Christine has always been beautiful, I think the city just brings it out of her," he continued. I took no comfort from his compliment- what did it matter if Erik thought I was beautiful when he couldn't forgive me for what I'd done?

I couldn't believe the change that the man had underwent- his voice was cheerful, welcoming and warm, the voice I'd fallen in love with. He moved closer and lifted his hand to my face, only almost touching my cheek with his icy fingertips. Erik was shredding my heart, tearing me up inside with this false kindness.

He was only putting on a show for them.

As always, Meg was quick to introduce herself. She moved forward and held out her hand. "Hi, you must be Erik! It's great to finally meet you, Christine's told us a lot, but she never mentioned that you lived in a palace!"

Erik paused for a moment to regard her before taking the offered hand. "It's good to meet you Meg, Christine has likewise told me much of you though she never mentioned how perfectly charming you are,"

For the first time in my life, I witnessed Meg blush at a compliment from a man. My friend is fearless, I'd never seen her shy or speechless, but here she was, flattered into silence at Erik's words!

As for Erik, I'd never seen him behave so charismatically- how could he hide his true self so easily? It wasn't fair. I was stamping down my tears while he was flirting with my friend!

Meg smiled shyly and drew back her hand, "Whoa! Your hands are like ice,"

"Oh, I apologize. It's an old house, not exactly a palace, but it's been in the family for several decades."

There was a smile in Erik's eyes and voice, and he turned to Raoul. "And you must be Raoul de Chagny," he said Raoul's name slowly, as if he were weighing the words on his tongue. His eyes were absorbing, taking Raoul in, every last detail, inch by inch.

Raoul smiled and shook Erik's hand- they were both men. "Yes, I am. Before I forget to mention it, thank you for sending the plane tickets, it was a great thing to do,"

"Oh, yes, thank you so much!" Meg burst out in agreement. "I only ever go to Corsica, I've never even been to the mainland before,"

"But you were born in Provence," Erik stated with interest growing in his voice.

"Oh, um, yes I was, but we moved before I was old enough to remember anything of it," Meg said, appearing confused for just a second.

"Yes, yes, you were born in Marseille, close to the sea," Erik said, suddenly urgent.

"Yes, I-"

I was shocked, "Erik, how did you know that?"

The amber eyes moved from Meg, to me. The flames of his eyes were dancing, and they moved once again, past Raoul, to Mrs. Giry.

Erik spoke with a voice that I'd never heard before, and hoped to never hear again. the voice of some vengeful nightmare...

"I remember you, Claire."

She had been silent from the moment of Erik's arrival. I hadn't noticed how her expression had changed, from interest, to amazed recognition. Erik stepped over to her and reached out his hand.

In the front foyer, we witnessed Death's touch, for no sooner did Erik's fingertip graze Mrs. Giry, she crumpled to the floor.


	17. Questions Without Answers

**Author's Note: Read & Review...Merry Christmas!**

* * *

Raoul reached out and caught Ms. Giry before she hit her head on the strong marble floor, "Whoa, what did you do?" He asked Erik in surprise. 

A tilt of the mask. "I didn't do anything, she's had a long day. William, could you please get Claire some water, and Raoul, please, bring her this way- she needs to lay down." Erik said, directing the young man into the front salon, and gesturing to a chaise lounge.

Raoul raised his eyebrows at the unusual man that Christine had married- Erik was eerily calm, but he had an unmistakable air of authority. He did as he was told, lifting the willowy Ms. Giry and carefully laid her down on Erik's sofa. William followed after, with a glass of water and some aspirin for when she woke up.

Meg, Christine and Erik watched the scene from the salon's doorway.

"What happened?" Meg asked Christine. "One minute she was fine, then the second Erik gets near her she faints!"

Nervously glancing up to Erik, Christine shrugged. "Maybe it's heat exhaustion, or something like that. She's not used to the city, hasn't been to the mainland in so many years…she'll be fine."

Meg turned suspicious eyes to Christine's husband. "How did you know so much about us?"

Erik turned to Meg and she could see his strange amber eyes narrow behind the mask in a way that suggested he was smiling. "I knew your mother, Meg, a very long time ago. It pleases me to know that you've grown into such a lovely young lady." He looked over his shoulder, only to see that Ms. Giry hadn't woken up. "She may be out for a while. You might like Christine to give you a tour of the house. I'll have Sophie and our cook start on dinner, does that sound all right?"

Raoul nodded as he came back to them. "Sure, that's good with me,"

Meg brightened, "Yeah, me too."

Erik nodded. "I'm pleased to hear it. Christine, if you would be so kind?"

She had been in a trance, so absorbed with Erik's charisma that she hadn't realized she was being addressed. "Oh, what? Yes! Follow me, guys," she stammered nervously.

Once Erik disappeared, her friends were on her in a second. Raoul hustled the girls out into the backyard so they could talk more freely. "Christine, what the hell is going on? How does he know Meg's mother?"

"I don't know, that was a shock to me too!" She protested. "He never mentioned it, but then again I never gave him Ms. Giry's full name, I never call her Claire."

"I have to talk to him. If he knew my mother and was there when she lived in Provence, maybe Erik met my father, maybe he can tell me what really happened instead of that tired old lie she's been feeding me for so long," Meg said in irritation towards her mother.

Raoul shook his head. "He seems nice enough so far, Christine, but what do you really know about him?"

Christine shook her head and realized that what she really knew of Erik's past had amounted to, "Nothing,"

"Nothing? So you married the guy without even knowing who he is?"

Amazed, Christine sat down on the patio chair and began to rub her temples. "I think I did."

Meg sat down next to her. "He is strange, I'll be the first to say it. You told us all about the masks, and I can understand that he's shy about his scars…it's a little weird. But I'm willing to give him a chance,"

Raoul nodded, "So am I. He seems all right, but Christine you still haven't really told us anything about him. Where he came from, how he met you…?"

Christine stood up suddenly. Her two best friends in the world looked back at her, concerned for her and confused- perhaps more confused than she was. "Guys, listen to me, please? Erik is very…ah, unique. You already know that. Listen, it's just…we had a fight, so if you see us acting a little strange towards one another…"

"What was the fight about?" Meg asked, nosy as ever.

Christine gave her a withering look. "Marriage stuff. It's not important. The point is, he's mad at me, so I can't just run in and ask him right now. Give us a little more time and I can get some answers, or better yet Meg, why not just go ask your mother when she's feeling better?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "Oh, please! The only straight answer she gives me is 'no'."

Raoul nodded. "If it's a weird time between you and Erik, I can get us a hotel instead of us staying here and making things even more difficult if you want," he said, stroking Christine's shoulder.

She shook her head. "No, I'm sure things will be fine-"

"Oh, Christine?"

They all turned to find Marcel poking his head out the back door.

"Yes, Marcel?"

"Sophie just told me that dinner is almost ready. If your friends want to set up in their rooms first and wash up, I can take them now,"

Raoul nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea,"

Meg stood and followed him into the house, leaving Christine alone for a while, to ponder the mystery of her husband, and how he could have known Ms. Giry so long ago.

* * *

Slowly, painfully, the room came into focus. Memories returned forcefully, bruising to her mind. Here she was, set to visit the girl she considered a second daughter, the girl who had married that bizarre creature known as Erik. This was Erik's house, she was lying on Erik's sofa.

The last time that she'd seen Erik, it had been in Marseille, on the day she gave birth to Meg. Erik had been there. And he had left them.

Perhaps it was the betrayal of Erik that had been the reason that most joys had evaded her. The small amount of money she had was not enough to live on in Provence, so she'd moved to the island. Worries had flooded over her when it came to her daughter- she rarely left Meg alone for fear that she would get hurt. She hadn't allowed herself to become involved with another man. She hadn't allowed herself any true happiness.

Soon, she'd be considered elderly, with only Meg to show for her life's work. Claire didn't like how the world had treated her, and so she'd turned her back on it. She was brittle, frigid, strict- she hated the cold nag that looked back at her from the mirror every day.

Sighing, she rubbed her temples and sat up. The room spun for a moment, but she ignored it and tried to clear the dizziness away.

"There's aspirin on the table, with water."

Claire didn't bother to look for Erik. He was somewhere in the room with her- that knowledge alone was enough to chill her bones. Seeing him again might give her cause for another fainting spell.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"Yes, well. _It's the least I can do,"_

His words taunted her memory, the same words she'd said to him all those years ago. She took the pills and gulped the water; a large pit was forming in her stomach.

"Erik, how did you find us? And Christine, why did you take her away from us? You will never know how worried we were when we couldn't find her or get into contact,"

The shadows spoke to her. "I didn't find you, I never looked for you after Provence. And Christine…let's say she found her way to me. Landed on my doorstep, as it were."

"She shouldn't be here with you-"

"I'll be the judge of that, Claire! Don't think that I will allow you to interfere. Christine is my wife, she is happy here with me!"

Claire was silent.

"Dinner is ready. You will go to the dining room and inform them that I will not be joining them for the meal. Pass on my regrets, but tell them that I will be about afterwards. Go now, Claire." Erik ordered her from all sides of the room.

Helpless, she did as she was told.

* * *

Erik stalked out of the salon and made his way up to the second floor. He could hear and smell the meal taking place; it made him feel left out, but in a familiar way. He'd never eaten with a family before, why should he expect to now? 

He was thankful that Giselle had left- Erik had arranged a ski trip for her, booked weeks ago- better to keep her busy rather than have her stay around to charm his guests. _And a good thing_ _too,_ he thought, S_he would have been all over that poor boy Raoul the moment he stepped in the door._

It might not have been a bad thing. If Raoul would be occupied with Giselle, his attentions wouldn't be on Christine.

Erik ticked his head to the side in irritation. The Queen had not lied to him. Raoul was young, handsome, strong…everything Christine deserved…

_No! She is mine, she promised herself to me! She knows I love her, and though it's all lost now, she won't leave me- I won't let her leave me…_

He knew the damage that had been done, her expression of fright and disgust still tore at Erik's heart, but the simple fact that Christine had returned to him…that had to mean something, that maybe there was still a spark of hope left for them to be able to share some form of companionship.

Anger still troubled him, coupled with his hurt and humiliation. He didn't mind Claire and her daughter, but Raoul's presence troubled him. Raoul de Chagny- Christine's first lover, here in the home of her husband!

The boy had shown great respect so far- he hadn't shown insolence about the mask, nor had he shown any romantic intentions toward Christine. Maybe it had been true, what she'd told him in Tejar, that they were close friends, and nothing else. Erik wanted to believe that, but Christine was too beautiful to be ignored. The first words from the boy's mouth had been to compliment her beauty.

Would Christine betray him with Raoul?

Erik shook away the thoughts as he stepped into the bedroom that for many weeks, he had shared with Christine. It was his first time back since that night…his eyes gazed upon the bed. How he'd dreamed of Christine as he'd slept! How he'd missed her since that terrible night!

He longed to turn back time, to erase what had happened between he and Christine. His heart and hands ached for her. He missed her smile and their long talks in the night. He missed the warmth of holding her as they slept; he missed the thrill of waking first and being able to watch her as she slept, safe and content in his arms.

Even as Christine slept, Erik had never taken liberties with her- not a touch of his hand to her body, not even a brush of his lips to her forehead.

He moved forward to stand before the foot of their bed and brushed his fingertips over the dark top covers. _If only she hadn't seen…_

He glanced over to the top of the bed. The mask he'd been wearing that night, the mask that Christine had removed…there it was, resting on the pillows. Mouth tight, Erik stepped over and took the mask, then he sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers over the smooth, blank face.

What had Christine felt when she'd understood what he'd so long kept hidden from the world? Disgust and fright, those were the most common responses he'd received in the past. The Queen's bizarre mind had been morbidly intrigued and his mother had been furious from the moment of his birth.

And Christine? Did she understand him better for it? Erik believed that she was sorry, but he couldn't bear seeing her look at him that way again. He'd risked too much already in allowing her so close.

Erik removed his mask and looked at his bare face in the mirror mounted on the wall, but just as quickly, he looked away. Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing his nerves. He stood and walked closer to the glass.

Erik rarely looked at his face when unmasked. In all his years, he'd never felt the urge to do any sort of lengthy inspection. He knew what he looked like, and in his opinion there were far too many other people in the world who knew as well.

The amber flames of his eyes danced at him from sunken black sockets surrounded by papery gray skin. A shallow hole for a nose, and below that, thin and leathery misshapen lips.

_Kiss me again, Christine, and tell me I'm beautiful…_

He thought back to the mural the Queen had had painted of him in Tejar, and then thought it funny how the only feature that did not match the artist's rendering were his teeth. Erik's teeth were not pointed like a cat's. In fact they were strong, white and very straight.

Everything else in the painting had been true to life, as the Queen had been happy to point out.

Erik touched his cheek. The skin there was dry, but strong, like canvas. Strangely, he did have eyebrows, but what end did they serve? His face was so warped that it was nearly impossible to discern his expressions. Well. Perhaps such emotions were better expressed by body language and the tone of his voice.

He tapped his chin with a fingertip as he stared over his own image.

_Cursed with such a face, but blessed with such a voice! Is there no end to cosmic irony?_

His voice was a powerful tool. Briefly, he considered hypnotizing Christine into forgetting that she'd seen him- he could control her just by looking into her eyes and holding her mind with his voice. He could manipulate her into making love to him…

The idea held appeal, only to his body, but never to his heart. He wanted Christine by her own choice- to hypnotize her would be rape.

Erik knew his dreams would never be realized now that she had seen him. Christine might love him, he had seen a flicker of that love just before the light had hit him that night, but she wouldn't allow him to take her body now. What woman could? It was all changed now.

He didn't want to be around Christine anymore; the way she was acting- she seemed almost afraid of him, as if he'd unleash some wrath upon her or one of her friends. Didn't she know he could be a civil human being? He wasn't a monster, though after seeing his face she would likely be in need of more convincing.

When her friends left, it would be akin to the removal of a buffer between them. Erik assumed that she'd prefer to live apart from him from now on. He wanted her to live in his home, go to University in the fall. He wanted her to learn, to have a career she loved, he wanted her to be in his home so that he might witness her happiness.

It would please him greatly, just to see her smile, even if she never again smiled at him.

Everything in the house- the new modern furniture; the light airy rooms; the breezy, happy décor…it meant nothing without Christine, it had all been for her.

He'd redone the chateau house for her, he'd had the backyard modeled after the Tejar gardens to please her. If Christine left him, the house would again fall into disrepair and Erik would do nothing to stop it. He would fall away into his own grief and madness.

Well.

Erik might have to convince Christine to stay, especially now that Claire was amongst them. He hadn't thought that Claire would turn up, and it was an unwelcome surprise. She would, Erik had no doubt, attempt to bring Christine back to that little island. She would take Christine from him.

He knew the lengths to which that woman would stoop.

He'd never loved before, but the sense of Christine's betrayal, and the old anger still flared hotly within. He couldn't have Christine so close again, she'd already proven how weak she was. He feared what he might do to her, if she should ever gasp at his face again.

_Enough for now,_ Erik thought. _This is what's best for both of us- she can be happier here without me, and perhaps I can be simply content to know that she's here in my home, my life._

Erik replaced the mask and arranged his hair to hide the thin leather straps that held it in place. _There is work to do, and it would be better if I finish before they've finished with their meal._

Erik adjusted the mask, and went to work.

* * *

Christine, Raoul, Meg and Ms. Giry had finished their dinner, a big affair thrown together by the house cook, who had taken on the position in the Laurent household after manning a restaurant for the past thirty-five years. He preferred the more personal environment of the house, but secretly he felt his skills were being wasted on a masked man who rarely ate at all, a haughty snob who jumped from diet to diet, and a girl so slender it seemed she lived only on salads. 

As the opportunity had arisen, the cook had put his skills to great use.

Christine rubbed her stomach. "I promise you, that was one of the best meals I've ever had!"

The group moved into the main living room of the house, where Raoul reclined deep into the couch, his eyelids already drooping. "I'm stuffed," he muttered as he moved to lay his head down on Christine's lap. She thought nothing of it; they'd been physically affectionate for years. She reached down and rubbed his temples, threading her fingers through his short blonde curls.

Meg flopped into a chair across from them and yawned. Claire took a seat opposite, but she hardly said a word since waking.

"You're tired, aren't you?" Christine asked them.

"Mmm-hmm," Raoul murmured from her lap.

Meg smiled, "I don't know about you two, but I'm ready to crash,"

Christine nodded, "Same here," she tapped Raoul on the shoulder and he moved off of her lap to allow her to stand up. "Follow me, guys,"

Heavily, the four of them made their way upstairs. Christine led the way and smiled at her friends. "You're going to love these rooms, they're fantastic,"

She went down the hall and opened three doors in a row. "Raoul, you're first, then it's Meg in the middle, and Ms. Giry, you get lucky door number three," she laughed.

Meg rolled her eyes and stepped into the middle room. "Wow, this is so nice!" she exclaimed as she investigated the room. It was a pretty jewel box of a room- all gilded frames and rosy silks. Meg ran a hand through her hair and glanced over to the bed. "Hey, Christine, is this yours?"

Christine had just shown Raoul into his own room- a Victorian inspired room decked in dark wood paneling and royal blue upholstery. He thanked her and practically collapsed into bed. Christine smiled and watched him as he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. It really had been a long day, and after such a rich meal, Raoul was asleep by the time Christine had reached the joining door between his and Meg's room.

She shut the light out in Raoul's room and went in to see what had Meg so preoccupied. "What's up?"

Meg gestured to the scroll she'd found on the bed. Christine recognized it quickly- the scrolled canvas that Erik had given to her in the attic just before everyone had come to the house.

"Oh, um…let me take that," Christine said carefully.

"What is it?"

"I'm not really sure. Erik gave it to me earlier today," Christine said distantly. She took the roll from Meg and together they unraveled the large piece of canvas over the bedspread.

"Oh God…"

* * *

**Christine**

Meg and I both stared at the drawing Erik had done of me in Tejar. I remembered then, that he hadn't allowed me to look at it. He had said that it would ruin the surprise. Well, I was surprised now- the drawing was beautiful. I looked at myself, posing on a divan, draped in sheer white lace, my gaze faraway. He'd added color to it- my hair was inky black silk, and my eyes were bursting jade off the page.

"It's so beautiful!" Meg cried happily beside me.

_"I don't want it any more…"_

Erik's words echoed in my mind, and I winced, fearful that Meg could hear my memories and would know everything that I'd done to poor, unhappy Erik. The drawing was precious to me. I took it and set it down on the gilded desk so that it wouldn't get smudged.

"Christine, is anything wrong?"

My hands were shaking, and I could feel heat rushing to my face.

"Meg, I have to go talk to Erik. I just…I have to…" breath was coming in short pants, and I hustled out of Meg's room.

What was Erik trying to tell me? I had to speak with him!

I ran upstairs to my bedroom and tried to go in, but the door was locked. "What the-? Hey," I knocked on the door several times before it was opened.

Erik stood before me in the doorway as he had countless nights before, clad in sleep trousers and a mask- shirtless. His eyes blazed at me, but not with anger- for this I was grateful. "What is it?"

I ignored his harsh tone and I hated how he had come to be so cold to me when we were alone, but such a warm host to my friends. "The drawing…why…?"

"Oh, that,"

Anger was simmering just under the surface; I could feel it churning in my chest, ready to explode. "Yes, that!"

Erik's coolness did not waver. "I'm letting go of the dream, Christine. I love you, but it's better that we stay apart. This is your home, and you're free. I am no longer your husband."


	18. A Note, An Argument

Christine stood in the hallway for a long time, staring at the closed door to what used to be their bedroom. Erik had set her free, told her that he wasn't her husband any more. And then, as inhumanly detached as ever she'd seen him, Erik took one step back, and let the door swing shut.

Closing on her and the rest of the house.

_Did he just…?_

Christine turned away from the door to Erik's room and sank down to her knees in the hallway. It wasn't until that moment that she realized just what had been lost the night that she saw his face. The Erik she'd met in Tejar and had come to know in their months together in France was gone. The cold stranger was all that was left of the man now, all because of her.

She brought her hand to cover her mouth as her stomach clenched and heaved painfully within. "Oh God…oh God…" she whispered frantically. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she flinched once she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Meg looked down on her, "Christine, what happened?"

Christine wiped at the tears, but she knew it was useless. There was no way that she could explain why she was curled on the floor, whimpering like she'd just been kicked. She needed a friend, and Meg had always been her best. It hit her, all at once, how much she had missed both Meg and Raoul while she'd been at the chateau with Erik.

Writing letters was nothing when compared to the reality of her friend, live and in the flesh. Meg was here, a warm, breathing human being, offering comfort and understanding as she had for all the years they'd known each other.

"Oh, Meg…I'll tell you everything, just get me away from him, please!" Christine sobbed, deeply pained to know that after everything they'd shared, Erik was on the other side of the door, calm and content to be without her.

* * *

Meg sat upright against the headboard of the rosy bed, knocked off her feet by the story that Christine had just told her. She had mentioned that she and Erik had had a fight earlier when they were all on the patio, but Meg would have never guessed it could've been so bad between them now. 

"You don't understand what I've done, Meg. I've ruined everything and now he hates me- I can hear it when he talks and see it in his eyes. He's so cold now, like I'm nothing to him anymore. It was so good, and I've ruined it…" Christine moaned, curled in the center of the bed.

"Christine, I don't know what I can say. I can't imagine what I would do in your position…"

Christine looked up, her tears had finally stopped. "There's no one we can ask. How often do you even come onto this situation? While trying to finally make love, a wife sees her husband's face and reacts like an idiot."

Meg smiled kindly. "It is a little strange. I still can't believe you're married, let alone to…well, to _that_,"

Christine frowned. "Erik is not a 'that' or an 'it'. He's just a man, Meg. And I love him, I really do. That's what makes this mess so horrible."

"Sorry, so far he has been pretty terrific but you said yourself that he doesn't even look human behind the mask," the blonde said pointedly.

Christine rolled onto her back and rubbed a hand over her tired face. "I know what I said. God, Erik, I'm so sorry! I've really never seen anything like him, Meg. He looks like a corpse. All this time, I thought he was just making it all sound worse than it really was, but I've come to find out he never once lied to me."

"If he loves you, he'll forgive you," Meg said. It was a simplistic answer, but in this situation, what words of advice could she offer?

"He does love me, and we've apologized to each other. He says I'm forgiven, but the way he looks at me now Meg…when you saw us together downstairs, he was faking it the entire time. He doesn't want me anymore, that's what he was trying to tell me in the attic,"

Meg frowned. "What do you mean? When were you in the attic?"

"It was just before you all came into the house. Erik handed that rolled drawing to me and said that he didn't want it anymore. That drawing is me, he doesn't want me anymore- God, Meg I'm in love with a man who hates me!" Christine sobbed.

Meg did the only thing a best friend could- she held Christine as she cried, and offered pearls of comfort when she could. She joked with Christine, trying to cheer her up; she gave Christine news of their island home in trying to distract her; she tossed ideas on how to get Erik to talk.

Useless, all of it.

"What are you going to do with the drawing?" Meg asked, somewhere around two-thirty in the morning.

Christine looked over to the desk, where the drawing was. "I want to frame it. It's too pretty to be kept out where it can get dirty or torn,"

Meg nudged her, "You mean _you're_ too pretty,"

Christine couldn't help smiling. "Let me see if there's a frame in the closet,"

She moved off the bed and stepped to the closet in the corner of the room, while Meg went to get a closer look at the drawing. It really was very beautifully done. Meg wasn't an art critic by any means, but she did know what she liked. She liked this drawing that Erik had done- in fact, she loved it.

Christine had always been her best friend and very pretty, anyone could see that, but this colored sketch lifted her to the level of _goddess_. It spoke volumes of how Erik truly felt towards her. This drawing was not made for fun, it was done to showcase the way he viewed his wife.

An untouched, beautiful creature.

Meg almost dropped the sketch on the floor when she heard Christine erupt into a new fit of sobbing. She set the large canvas sheet back on the desk and rushed over to the closet. "What's the matter?" She asked quickly.

Christine could say nothing, but she held out a sheet of paper. Impatiently, Meg took it from her. Her eyes quickly scanned the message and found herself at a loss of words.

The letter, of course, was from Erik himself.

'**Christine,**

**As you find me so hideous, I will no longer inflict myself upon you every night. As you can see, I've moved all of your belongings- this will be your room from now on. Any requests you have may be passed on to William. This is your home Christine but I warn you to stay away from the attic, my study and most especially the master bedroom.**

**Erik'**

* * *

In the morning, Erik was happy to overhear that Christine had taken Raoul, Meg and Ms. Giry on a tour of her city. It pleased him to know that she had handled their situation like an adult, and not thrown a fit at him for removing her things from his bedroom. 

The room that belonged to Christine was far from him- one floor below, on the opposite side of the house. She was at a safe distance, and he was now free to admire her from afar. He had allowed Christine too close, and his heart had paid dearly for it.

Now, though, he could watch over and protect her from his proper place. He was a gargoyle watching over the young angel- perhaps it took a demon to ward off the greater evils that might befall her. He could still provide everything for her; the house, her education, her clothing, anything she wanted, anything that would make her happy.

But Erik would have to accept the fate that he had always known was in store for him.

The past weeks with Christine had been wonderful, but he could not expect such intimacy again. There would be no more outings for them, no more adventures or long talks into the night.

No more kisses stolen in the dark…

But they could both live together in the house, couldn't they? Share the same roof but carry on separate lives? Yes, yes...he would be miserable, except for when he could watch her smiling face.

Erik sighed and stared blankly at the computer screen. He'd tended to his business already, and he remained slumped before the desk, his eyes seeing nothing. The house was empty. Sophie and William had gone off to collect groceries for Gaston, the cook, who was to prepare a wonderful meal upon their guests' return. Marcel was out spending time with that girl who lived down the street- Ann? Anita?

He sat back and listened to the silence. It was all that he had to look forward to from now on.

_Just think,_ he mused to himself, _The other day I was imagining Christine here with me, as my true living bride. Now all I can hope for is to have her shadow pass over me without fear. _

Idly, he tapped the touch-pad that acted as the computer's mouse; music drifted into the silence and shadows of the room. Not opera, or any grand orchestra performance- rather, he'd chosen a simple list of songs from the American jazz era. He had an appreciation for Miles Davis and Louis Armstrong, of course, but others were pleasing to his ears as well- Scott Joplin, Buddy Bolden, and Papa Jack Laine were among his favorites.

He'd always turned to music for comfort when he was stressed or unhappy, but even the busy rhythms could not help him now. Erik's mind was a myriad of emotion. He was still angry with Christine for the way she'd reacted to him, but his anger with her could not compare with his own torturous self-loathing.

Christine had killed his hope, yes, but it was Erik who had buried it and salted the earth.

He stood from the desk and looked out over the back gardens. It had taken weeks to bring in all of the exotic plants he'd ordered, to drain and then refill the swimming pool and fountain, to make repairs and to arrange the landscaping.

A long and painstaking endeavor, and for what?

Erik had witnessed how pleased Christine had been by the gardens in Tejar, it had been his aim to give her a palace in Paris. He had hoped to see her there among the flowers. He had wished to photograph her, to sketch and paint her, to sing with her, to take a picnic out on the grounds and perhaps feed her a few precious morsels in a gesture between lovers.

He wanted her.

Erik had envisioned them making love in the swimming pool, in the study, the secluded alcove in the garden, their bed…fevered wishes, idle daydreams, all fueled by her presence in his life and by her eager kisses…he shook his head, that was over.

Automatically, Erik locked the door to the study before raising his mask to scratch an itch just below his left eye. He remembered then that the house was empty. The old anger returned- the old, slow burning anger and the same answerless questions.

_Why should I have to lock the door in my own house when I want to take off my mask? Why should I have to hide my face forever? Why was I born like this, why can't I just be like everyone else? God, I'm dying!_

Erik felt heat rise to his face and began to pace the length of the study. The man's body was tensing for a fight, he longed to pull Fate apart, to rearrange his life into that of a man who deserved Christine. He was exhausted with feeling so angry and miserable. He hadn't been happy since that night with Christine, just before the door opened.

Had he ever been happy before Christine? Never!

Erik felt that he had gone too soft for her. The girl had stripped him down, taken away the killer, the warrior, the cynic and madman within. Christine had tamed him, brought him in from the wild dangers of his own making.

Damn her, she'd given him exactly what he'd always wanted and then torn him apart with it!

Erik did not hate her any longer, he was merely angry with her now. His hatred of the girl had been a fleeting emotion brought on by his great upset. Christine had looked upon him with disgust after declaring her love. _False love_. He'd hated her during the days and forced her to perform in the bordello nights…the whore had been a terrible mistake- how could he have so easily gone outside of the marriage that he'd spent his entire life hoping for?

His actions showed him for what he was- he was selfish and ungrateful and undeserving of Christine, of any woman. He lied, he manipulated, he'd killed, he had an uncontrollable temper and now, he was little more than a whoremonger who had been rough with his wife.

The guilt and anguish he felt now was an internal hell that prevented him from sleep and any form of peace- a prelude of the hell that awaited him once this life was over.

He sighed, and his thoughts were thankfully interrupted by his stomach.

Erik left the study and as he made his way down the stairs, he lifted the mask from his face completely. He hadn't walked through the chateau without a mask in over twenty years. He felt mildly liberated and it occurred to him that if he sent everyone away, he could stay in the house forever surrounded by his art and music, everything that was beautiful.

Perhaps, if given enough time, he could become beautiful too. 

Erik blinked back a sudden sting of tears and slipped into the kitchen. He only wished to eat in peace, unmasked, and not be forced to hide himself from the world at all times. What would happen if he decided to walk down to the shop on the corner to fetch himself a meal without his mask?

Likely, people would either run from him, or come closer, either for a better look at the oddity or to beat the life out of him.

His heart ached for Christine and the happiness that she had given him. After what he had done, how could he ever hope to make things right?

* * *

Most of his day had been spent in the study. Erik had brought the meal with him upstairs when he heard Sophie and William arrive back to the chateau. He had acted like an animal, running back to its nest at the approach of humans. Erik hated himself; not only for his face, but for the creature the world had created in him.

It had been hours since he'd last left the study. Christine, Raoul and Meg were swimming in the backyard, playing. He could hear their laughter even on the third floor. He had a strange image in his mind of being included in their games. In the daydream, he was unmasked but none of them cared a wit, they accepted his face in stride and urged him to join them in their games.

_If only, if only…if I had one euro for every 'if only' in my life I would be the richest man in Europe!_

Sighing, Erik gave up the effort he'd been putting into reading a novel. He had read the book before, but his desire for rereading it now was gone. He moved to the window and watched them in the backyard. Raoul had pushed Meg into the water, only to be pushed in by Christine. Laughs all around. Raoul called to her from the pool, and Christine jumped, both into the water and into her young man's arms.

Erik didn't like that.

Loneliness crawled over him; he was a prisoner here in his own home. He had been born in this house, raised here, and by all accounts he was just as likely to die there as well in the same way that he'd come into the world- despised and alone. If he went down to the backyard now, he knew what the reception would be.

Erik was no fool. He knew that Christine had received his note, and no doubt by now Meg and Raoul knew of the situation. Her friends knew what he truly looked like and how he had hurt Christine that night.

In truth, Erik was mildly surprised that the boy hadn't sought him out for a fight. He deserved a broken jaw from Raoul's fist at the very least, and would have welcomed the pain.

"Erik,"

He glanced up. Claire was in the doorway. Erik was lonely, but hers was the last company he wanted.

"What do you want?" He asked in irritation.

There she was, in her dark, frumpy clothes. She looked as if she'd just come from a funeral. He didn't like her stern face or her disapproving eyes, who was she to judge him?

"Erik, I need to speak with you," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"Let me guess. You don't like something I'm doing, is that it?" Erik asked, adding an edge of danger to his voice. He wouldn't hurt her, but he wanted to intimidate her so that she would just leave him alone.

Claire's stern face didn't flinch as she came closer to him. Erik knew that a speech was on the tip of her tongue.

"That's close enough," he warned her.

Claire stopped before him. "Erik, Christie is unhappy here. You have to let her go,"

The mask tilted. "I'm her husband, not her jailer. I'm not making her stay."

"And how did you come to be married, Erik? How did you force your way into her life?"

"I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. I never forced anything on her,"

"You liar! Erik, whatever you think you feel for Christine…she's just a girl, Erik, you can't keep her here with you. This isn't love-"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Claire. Christine told me herself that she loves me!"

"Before or after she saw your real face?"

Silence.

"I thought so. Erik, you don't love Christine, it's just an infatuation, you were never shown love, you don't even know what real love is!"

"Yes I do! You think I can't understand the most basic thing in the world? I've witnessed love countless times in my life. Love, hatred, grief, sorrow, joy, it's all the same. I know what love is and I know I love Christine. I love Christine, but I hate you, Claire. Who is the true liar here?" He demanded.

Claire faltered under his glowing eyes of anger. "I did not come here to rehash the past,"

"Oh yes, because you know exactly what I would say, don't you? You are a liar, no better or worse than me. How many years have you lied to Meg, Claire? _Meg_. If I remember, you claimed it to be "the least you could do" to name her something entirely different. What would charming young Meg say if I were to tell her just how well I knew you in Marseille?" He taunted.

"Erik, don't you _dare_!" She warned, color rising to her face.

"No! Claire, don't _you_ dare try to tell me what to do in my own home. Have you forgotten where you're sleeping tonight? My home, you are a guest of _my_ _wife_. I'm tired, so tired of you and everyone else trying to be my conscience. I can do what I want, I have Christine and if you say one word to her, I promise you, I'll bring Meg to this room and tell her _everything_." He threatened, his voice cold and bitter.

"You wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would. You know I would. I owe you nothing. I know what your word is worth now, you're a great liar, as all women are. I will not allow you to interfere with my life, do you understand me? I have Christine, and if you take her from me, I promise, I _will_ take Meg from you."

Erik's voice was cold and as deadly serious as Claire had ever heard it. She knew that he would carry out his threats without hesitation. For all of her sternness, she did love her daughter. Meg was all she had. Erik had beaten her at her own game with a single threat.

His eyes watched with greedy pleasure as the fight drained from Claire. "Erik, I truly think Christine should come back home with us," she said weakly.

"And I truly think Meg deserves to know who her father is, don't you?"

The color drained from her face as her eyes widened. "Erik, no,"

"Then put Christine from your mind. She is **not** your daughter, she is my wife. I can find a way to make things right again. She will stay here with me, and you will keep quiet. I don't know who you think you are to come into my home and try to take Christine from me. You think it so impossible that she could be happy here? Everything was fine until she looked at my naked face," Erik ranted quietly to himself.

"It's not right, Erik. You know it's not right,"

He looked up. "I know what is right- I'm providing a better life for Christine than anyone on that sandbar island of yours could ever hope to achieve. She is happy here, surrounded by music and art- beautiful things! Here she is protected, provided for and loved. You can give her nothing, Claire, while I have laid the world at her feet!"

Claire shook her head. "I'm sorry, Erik,"

"Don't be sorry for me. I'm happy! I have everything I've ever dreamed of. And you, Claire, if you try to take Christine from me…I've only gotten worse since we last met. Remember that, and remember your place. You have no power here."

"You're a bastard, Erik. I hope there's a special place in hell for men like you. What you're doing to Christine is wrong- you must be blackmailing her somehow, or using that trick of your voice to snare her mind. I don't know what you've done, but I give you my word that when we return home, Christine will go with us," Claire hissed at him.

For the first time in days, Erik laughed. It was a bitter, hysterical laugh, but genuine. "You can prove nothing, Claire! Make all the promises you like! We both know what your word is worth! Christine will not leave. She knows enough of my past that she will not flee from me over whatever it is that you tell her. Now, get out! If you give me one reason, I'll tell Meg everything. Who knows? Perhaps when the time comes to go back to the island, Meg might decide that she'd like to stay here with Christine."

"Erik, you wouldn't!"

"You know I would. Now again, get out of my study. Enjoy the time you have with your 'second daughter' Christine, because I swear to you, after this visit is over, _you will never see her again."_


	19. If We Could But Mend

"_I will name her for you, I swear it!"_

_The voice, mysterious and strangely comforting echoed from every corner of the room. She could see the man, not far from her bed. He was leaning against the wall; the silver light seeping in from the window threw his silhouette into subtle relief. _

"_No, Claire, why would you do such a thing?"_

"_After everything…Erik, it's the least I could do," her voice was labored. The birth had been very difficult, but mother and daughter were safe from danger. Still, she was exhausted._

"_You would do that? Have the girl carry my name?"_

"_Yes, Erik, please. Stay with us."_

"_What?"_

_"I want a change in my life. I can't stay here; I can't raise her here. I've already made arrangements. A new home for me and my girl…and you,"_

"_You don't know what you're asking, Claire. Give the girl my name, and it'll be enough."_

"_But Erik-"_

"_It's for the best, I promise you. You've been good to me Claire- I won't forget that. Take Little Erik and live your new life, but live it without me."_

"_That's not fair, you can't-"_

"_It's my decision. Goodbye Claire,"_

* * *

Claire gasped upon waking, sweat covered her brow. Her eyes swept the room, searching for Erik. Had she heard his voice just then or had it been an echo from her dream? She switched on the lamp and went into the bathroom. After splashing her face with water, Claire took a long look at her reflection, and thought of the time that she and Erik had spent together in Marseille.

The man had every right to feel betrayed. She had betrayed him, purposefully, just after he'd disappeared from her life. As time passed, and Meg gained her years, Claire had eventually forgotten about Erik, the strange man in her life from so many years ago.

However, the moment that she'd heard his voice in the foyer of the house, she'd known that Erik had managed to find his way back into her life. It was like walking into a trap. The realization that it was Christine's life that so concerned him, and not her own, had been strangely painful.

It was not jealousy, but admittance that Erik no longer held any concern of her or her daughter. And why should he? He had left Claire in Provence, his parting gift being just enough money to afford moving on to the prosperous island.

She gave thanks to him for that, but only hours ago he had raged against her in his usual ranting way. He loved Christine, but Claire knew that neither he nor the girl knew what they were getting themselves into.

Love was powerful and Erik was an unstable man.

Christine had not spoken to her much of Erik. During the city tour she had taken them on earlier in the day, she'd made hardly a mention of her husband at all, though she did point out a fountain he'd designed. Claire had been impressed, but she wanted to get Christine alone and find out how Erik had come into her life.

It wasn't like Christine to disappear for days and days without any word of contact- and even then when she had written to them, her notes to Meg and Raoul hadn't matched on comparison. She had been evasive whenever the subject of Erik came up. Claire wasn't blind- she recognized the tension. Christine had seen Erik's face, and Claire knew what the girl's reaction had to have been.

Erik's ranting had promised danger if Claire should try to lure Christine away from him. Claire knew he meant it. He had no reason to trust her; he would be keeping a strong watch on her words. Erik could see everything, his remarkable mind was always at least a few steps ahead of everyone else- he would know if she tried anything, but for Christine's sake, she had to risk it.

She believed that if Christine was not warned, Erik would keep her trapped forever.

* * *

Christine awoke again, alone in the gilded cage of her bedroom. Meg was across the hall, Raoul and Ms. Giry were on either side of her room. Her body felt heavy, but no heavier than her heart. She had been without Erik for days- she had barely seen him since their exchange in the attic. His note had been plain enough.

He would allow her to remain in his home, but he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Meg had framed Erik's drawing for her- the last physical remnant of his devotion.

The man had seen her as a goddess, the answer to all his prayers. He'd given her more than she could have ever hoped for- not just the material things, but Christine had never been loved so entirely. And she had only loved once before- her puppy love with Raoul had been short lived, but Erik…

Christine held out for the hope that maybe today would be the day that Erik would let her talk to him, let her explain and prove her newfound love. Didn't he want to talk to her, or did he want to keep on living like a ghost in his own home? The image of herself, several years older and still living in the chateau came into her mind. Erik would be her shadow, a sorrowful, bitter wraith. Forever longing and mourning for her.

It wasn't fair to either of them to let this go on.

She prepared herself for the day, making sure that she looked beautiful in her dress and appearance for Erik. Glancing out the window, Christine observed it to be a dreary day outside. She, Meg, Raoul and Ms. Giry would probably be better off going to a film or maybe even just staying in- rain seemed imminent, though it was still dry outside.

A blouse of scarlet lace was a perfect companion to her short denim skirt. Christine ran a hand through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh to her reflection. She thought it might be useless to put forth so much effort into how she looked- Erik hadn't come to her yet, why would he come today?

She left her room and went downstairs to join her friends for breakfast. Raoul was the only one she found in the kitchen. "Where's Meg and her mom?" Christine asked as she helped herself to the spread laid out by Gaston on the table.

Raoul shrugged and spoke around the eggs in his mouth. "Not sure. Maybe they're still asleep? Might have to do with the weather. I know when it's stormy, that always makes me tired."

Christine smiled and sat down across from him at the table. "You can go back to bed if you want, I don't think we'll be doing much today, unless you guys wanted to go to a movie or a play or something,"

Raoul shook his head. "We've been everywhere already, Christine. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to avoid the house."

Christine looked away from him briefly. "Well, you only get to see Paris once, right?"

He raised a brow at the comment. "Maybe Meg and her mom will only have this one shot to see the city, but you and I have been here several times. This has been my favorite visit though." Raoul said, tapping her foot with his under the table.

Christine reached across and took his hand in hers. "I'm glad you're here, Raoul."

He looked concerned. "You and Erik make up yet? I haven't seen a trace of him since the few minutes in the front of the house when we got here. It's been a few days already, where did he go?"

"Mmm…I'm not sure exactly. I just wish that he'd let me talk to him, you know? Instead of talking, he kicked me out. I'm basically in the doghouse right now. He's so stubborn and strange." Christine said tiredly.

"You sound surprised,"

"Not surprised, just…angry, I'm angry with him for the way he's acting. Rather than talk things out, he wants to be stubborn and try to ignore what's between us until it goes away. He's such a…a…" Christine struggled to find the word.

"A man?" Raoul supplied.

"Yes! He's being a man, a stubborn man- it's driving me crazy. Why can't he just talk to me?" Christine demanded, her temper rising.

Raoul leaned back. "Well, I know it's frustrating, but try to see it from his point of view, right? If what Meg told me is true and he…if he really looks like _that_, then I'm going to hazard a guess and assume he doesn't have much experience in relationships with women, right? Was it really so terrible when you saw his face?" He asked with a lowered voice.

Christine sighed heavily. "He is unlike anything I've ever seen before…I was startled, but I shouldn't have reacted that way toward him. He's so hurt by the way I looked at him, Raoul, you can't understand how hurt."

"He loves you,"

"Yes. And I love him. That's probably the worst of it, Raoul. He's loved me since we first met, and I hadn't told him that I loved him except for just before seeing his face. Don't you see? I told him I loved him and then practically screamed when I saw his face! I've ruined everything,"

Raoul sat back. "Yeah, you have."

"Oh, thanks a lot!" She snapped.

"Christine, I'm not Meg or one of your other girlfriends, all right? I'm not going to sugar-coat things for you to make everything sound romantic. I'm a guy, Erik's a guy. Maybe he's a little different than the rest of us, but let's work it out. Say if you and I were married, if I was Erik and you were still you," Raoul suggested.

"Ok, sure. You're Erik and I'm still me," Christine said, playing along.

"Yeah, if you'd done that to me, and I'd taken to hiding in the top floor of the house while you ran around with your friends…first and foremost, I'd want an apology." Raoul said.

Christine sighed. "I already have apologized to him. He apologized to me too, but I don't think it makes much of a difference."

"All right, apologies are out of the way, short of locking yourselves in a room for hours to sort it all out, what else can you do?" He asked.

"Nothing…but I've got to try," Christine said, dipping into her endless determination.

Raoul smiled. "Of course you've got to try- you're married, remember? Try all you want, but finish breakfast with me first,"

Christine smiled and walked around the table to him. "Raoul, you're the best," she said as she kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulders.

"What can I say? It's a gift, I should have been a marriage counselor," he bragged.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, right! A marriage counselor instead of the next in line to handle the family business empire. How did you explain this litte vacation to them?"

"Oh, I told my father I was going to Paris to study the architecture here. You know, get ideas for the new hotel I'm helping Philippe design in Berlin," he said slyly. "Construction probably won't start for at least a year, but this can still be thought of as a business expense."

"A tax write-off?" Christine asked him with raised brows.

"Something like that. Anyway, when are you going to talk to Erik?"

"I'm not sure, but it has to be soon. I can't go on like this."

* * *

"Hey, Christine,"

Later into the day, once the clouds had moved on and the sun was shining again, Christine turned and looked up at Meg, who'd been reading the day's paper. "Yeah, Meg what's up?"

Her friend turned a page and showed it to her, "They're doing a masquerade tomorrow- it's not too late to go, is it?"

Christine looked everything over. The ad was large, taking up the entire page of the paper, an explosion of colorful text. "Hey, that sounds like a great idea! We can get our costumes today- you always said that Paris was a great place to shop,"

Meg's eyes grew large. "Now you're talking! Oh, man, let me tell mom what the plan is for today." She said as she bounded up the stairs.

Christine took the masquerade ad with her onto the patio and found Raoul. He was reclined deeply into a lounge chair, sans shirt and very languid. The sun shone brightly above them, it had become very warm outside. She looked at him for a moment; Raoul reminded her of a lion- golden, wild and so alive. "Hey, sorry to interrupt your lazy day," she said, dropping the paper in his lap.

"What's this?" Raoul asked through a yawn as he turned the paper over.

"It's our plans for tomorrow night. We're all going to get costumes today. It lists there being a costume contest, and I think a trophy would look great in my room. Come on, Raoul. I know you don't really want to be laying around all day," Christine urged.

"Oh, all right, all right. Hand me my shirt?" Raoul ran a hand through his hair and pointed.

Christine took the white polo off the patio table and handed it to him. She stared at his chest. "You look different…"

Raoul raised a brow, "In a bad way?"

"No, far from it. Just…I don't know, you look different. Nevermind, come on let's go!" She urged him, dismissing her wandering eyes.

Ten minutes later, Christine, Meg, Raoul and Ms. Giry were out the door, intent to buy costumes worthy of a 1st place prize.

* * *

Several hours later, they returned to the house, arms full of packages that were deposited into their bedrooms before they all ran outside. Happy chatter rang throughout the chateau. Golden eyes observed the happenings with interest, and the ever-present longing only grew.

Erik watched them from his study window as they laughed and played in the backyard. Raoul was chasing the girls, occasionally when he caught them he'd sling them over a shoulder and spin to make them dizzy. Erik didn't like to watch Raoul playing with Christine- he was jealous of course, but not so concerned. The boy knew to whom Christine belonged.

Erik was angry and envious that he could not play with her in such a way; at present he could not even make her smile.

He saw that Claire sat at the patio table, watching happily as her children played. Erik sneered. He couldn't stand women like her...or maybe it was just Claire herself that had him so vexed. So empty was her own life that she'd "adopted" the friends of her only child, building them up in her mind as the son and second daughter that she'd never had.

It irritated him that Claire assumed she had rights to Christine before him.

_Are you blind, Claire? Christine wears my ring, she is my wife by choice, not by force! She chose me in Tejar- she could have ended it now, she could have left me, but she didn't! She stays here with me because she loves me, I know she does! If she never sees it again she might forget the face and remember her Erik!_

They were all going to some costume party tomorrow night; he'd overheard them easily. So excited, drunk on the idea, they were practically screaming about it down there. Erik wondered if maybe that had been Christine's intent; was she trying to tell him where they would be the next night, in a setting where masks were welcomed? Was she calling out to him to join her there?

Erik wondered if the idea was truly so farfetched.

In the weeks before their last night together, things between them had been so wonderful. Their senses of humor and personalities matched perfectly. Erik could never have asked for more in a friend. His first romance! It had been she who'd initiated the kisses and the sex, while it had always been he who'd been fearful of going too far with her. Erik wanted all of Christine, but he'd been terrified since their first meeting that he would scare her away.

_Well, you've done a fine job of that, but someone has to end this stalemate. She took the first step in the attic. It's up to you to take the second…_

Pride swallowed, Erik descended down to the second floor of the house to wait for Christine. It did not take long. Perhaps half an hour after he'd left the study, Christine entered her room to find Erik perched on the end of her bed.

Startled, Christine frowned. "Erik? What are you doing in here?"

The question had not come out the way she'd intended. Still, she closed the door behind her and stepped forward, though she didn't reach to touch him as she so often had done before. Anger still touched her from his chilling dismissals.

The man stood from her bed, strong and tall, and braced his arms, lacing his fingers before his waist, creating the long 'V' between them. She recognized the defensive stance and Christine took his posture as an attempt to intimidate. She was not afraid of Erik; more, it angered her that he was still so upset over what had happened that night.

_'V for Vindictive.' _she thought bitterly.

"I've come to talk to you,"

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. "Oh, really, you came to talk. Well, you know, it's funny, I could've sworn that you kicked me out and said that if I need anything, to bother William for it instead of you. Oh! Here, look, I have it in writing," Christine glared as she took his letter from the desk drawer and shoved it to his chest.

"I know what I wrote. I'm sorry, Christine. I was…upset when I wrote it."

"You didn't seem so upset when you kicked me out of our room the other night. What was it you said to me? Oh yeah, "You're free, I'm no longer your husband," why don't you explain _that?_" She demanded, her eyes sparkling.

Erik was insane, surely, to find her upset attitude so exciting. "I had thought to let you go. I can't go on like this, Christine. I thought I could allow you to live here with me, but keep things distant between us. I thought I could, but how can I now after all that you've done for me? God, Christine you're the first woman ever to treat me like a man," he said, his words tumbling.

Christine frowned. "You've done more for me, Erik. Who knows what would've happened to me if it weren't for you? I haven't stayed this long just to pay you back; I've stayed because I wanted to. I know that you know it, too. You know I meant what I said that night," her voice was very strong, she was determined to make him see the truth.

"Please! I don't want to talk about that. What you saw! What I did! It's etched into my mind forever, I just want to forget it all." His hands were fluttering frantically now, trying to wipe the scene from both their minds.

"We can't forget that night, Erik. It was Giselle who opened the door. After you ran out, I went into the hallway to find you. We had a few words. I hate her, but I hate myself too. Erik, I didn't mean to look at you like that-"

"Yes you did! They all did! Please, don't lie to us both. It was the most honest reaction in the world, natural revulsion. You think I haven't seen that look before? Disgust, I walk hand in hand with the disgust of others!" Erik said, pacing slightly. "I was angry for days, hating you, hating that look in your eyes. I don't blame you, it must be very natural to recoil in that way, once you knew that it was a living corpse holding you!"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Erik? God, I know you warned me, but it wasn't enough to prepare me for your face. I admit it- I was shocked and repulsed. Is that what you want to hear? _You're hideous, Erik._ There! You've turned me into Giselle, are you happy now?" Christine demanded.

"Ecstatic," he said dryly. His body suddenly felt drained, and he quickly sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of her bed. He rested his arms on his bent knees, and wrung his hands together. The mask tilted down.

Christine started forward and sat down beside him, purposefully aligning her body to his, allowing contact from their knees all the way up to their shoulders. "I shouldn't have said all that, Erik. I'm sorry. It's just…what do you want? I owe you everything, so I'll do whatever it is that you want, but you have to make up your mind. You have to decide how we're going to go on with this,"

"What could you want from me, Christine? I've only tried to make you happy. I didn't mean to shove you, I promise, I'll never do it again," his voice was miserably unhappy. Even as they sat so close together, he would not meet her eyes. His head remained down, his chin almost touching his chest.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me, Erik. Honestly, I've been roughed up worse than that,"

"Raoul?" he demanded, the muscles under her hand were instantly tense.

"No! Just growing up as one of the boys, you know? Scraped knees, bumps on the head, and I broke my arm once. You giving me a little push was nothing," she quickly reassured him.

"I ran out because I was afraid that I might do more. I could have done more," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I removed you from the bedroom because I was afraid that I might attack you. I feel that I cannot trust myself."

Christine swung her body towards him and rested her head in his lap before he had a chance to move away from her. She looked up and was finally able to meet his eyes. The gold luster was gone from his gaze. He looked so worn out, faded and old. "Kiss me," she breathed.

A spark sprang into his eyes. "No! Christine, I can't. The light…"

"Oh, the hell with it, Erik!" She ground out in frustration as she moved off of him. "You can't kiss me, you won't touch me. Do you even know what you want anymore?"

She stood and walked over to her closet, kicking off her shoes and finding a measure of satisfaction when they thudded hard against the back wall. Erik stood as well. "I want you, Christine, but I won't survive it if you leave me. _I'm terrified of what I can do."_

She huffed, "Well, I'll die if we keep on like this. I can't live in the house by myself with your hateful mother and you existing like a ghost, always in the shadows but never talking to me! I want _my_ _Erik_ back, don't you get it? I was going to go all the way with you but-"

"You saw me, I remember, I was there."

She sighed. "We're going in circles, Erik. Just come back when you know what you want from me, my door is always open for you,"

Erik kicked himself. No progress had been made, he felt that he'd taken ten steps backward. Still, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Christine…would you mind if…that is, would it be all right if I went with you to the masquerade tomorrow night?"

She blinked, "You know about that?"

His eyes flashed at her. "It was hard to miss with all three of you losing your minds over it in the backyard."

She laughed, and his heart fluttered to see her smiling at him again. "We weren't that loud, were we?"

"How else would I know?"

Christine lowered her eyes and showed a small smile. "Sure you can come. I would have asked you earlier, but…well, you know…"

Erik nodded. Emboldened by her smile, he ventured again. "Christine…also, it would make me very happy if you would come to bed with me tonight," his voice had gone tight, but his meaning was sincere.

Through pure will he kept his gaze level with hers, determined not to show pain or joy if she should either reject or come to him.

Christine felt gooseflesh erupt over her body as Erik's silky voice feathered over her skin. He hadn't touched her, he wasn't even close, but his words alone were enough to arouse her deeply. Blindly, she chose a nightgown and placed her hand into his, letting him lead her further into the labyrinth of his home.


	20. Reconnections and Misunderstandings

**Authr's Note: Happy New Year, I hope that you are all happy and healthy, and have someone to love- long live your creativity and beauty, bless you all. Ok, the mushy stuff is out of the way, onto our story...**

* * *

Erik opened the door and watched in appreciation as Christine padded across the carpet towards the closet to change her clothes. Her skirt was a very short denim, an indigo so dark it was nearly black. Erik enjoyed the sight of Christine's long bare legs, but it vexed him slightly that she'd worn it outside of their home; Raoul and every other man in Paris might have also enjoyed the sight that belonged to Erik, only to Erik. 

They had resumed their warm, familiar routine easily. Erik stared at the closed door of her closet, and he sighed with sweet contentment. Christine was on the other side of that door, changing out of her skirt and into some dainty nightgown for him, only for him!

His fingers tensed. Would it be inappropriate somehow, if he did his usual and went to bed with her without wearing a shirt, something to shield her eyes from him?

_No, no, she's seen me before…_

Erik went ahead and took off his shirt. This was the first night since the disaster, he had to behave as if nothing had changed between them- that his face had never been seen and her words had never been spoken out loud. He turned the doorknob and opened his closet door to see Christine in a slip gown of white lace.

_My angel!_

She turned down the covers and slipped into bed. His eyes ate her up; he wanted to photograph her, paint her, hold her…

Her raven hair spread over the pillow, her rosy cheeks and lips were fantastic and inviting. The lace clung to her so wonderfully. This beautiful woman-child, here in his bed. Christine made his heart ache. He forgot himself as she turned to look at him, and smiled.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night, or are you going to come to bed?"

The sound of Christine's voice snapped Erik out of his gazing. "I'm sorry! I was just-"

"I know, you were distracted, right?"

"I was going to say that I was just, mmm, absorbed, that's all, I just like to look at you," Erik said as he unconsciously adjusted his mask. This was foolish, were they suddenly strangers? He switched off the light in his closet and allowed the room to be swallowed into almost total darkness.

"No fair- I know that you can still see me, but all I can see is a black shape against a black background," the girl teased.

Erik sat down on the edge of their bed and faced her. "Christine…I want to photograph you," he breathed.

A black eyebrow shot up. "Now?"

He reached into the nightstand on his side and withdrew a small digital camera from the drawer. It was dark, but not so dark that she could not see what it was he held. "If you'll let me, yes. I bought this a few weeks ago, it arrived in the mail."

Christine frowned. "Oh, Erik. I've washed off all my makeup and my hair's a mess, maybe tomorrow?"

"Makeup would ruin it. Please, Christine. If you don't like the shots, I can always delete them and start over," he pleaded. Any other time he might have waited, but on this, their first night back together, he was compelled to capture her image.

He watched her smile in the dark, and knew he'd won her over.

"Oh, all right, snap away," she relented.

Erik smiled happily behind the mask and turned the light, arranging the camera settings and began to direct her poses.

"Close your eyes."

"Could you roll your hips to the side?"

"Lift your leg."

"Could you lower the neckline of your gown, just a little more?"

"Part your lips, bend your arm…"

The impromptu photo session lasted just over half an hour, but Erik knew already that he'd captured her in the lens. "Thank you for this Christine, I'll have them developed tomorrow, maybe play with them a little, make them into larger portraits." Erik said as he set the camera back into the drawer and finally moved to lay down beside her. He was very tense as he did so.

Tiredly, Christine shook her head. "No way, you have shopping to do tomorrow,"

"Shopping?"

"Yeah, for the masquerade, remember?" She yawned.

Erik smiled. "Oh, yes. I'll find a costume, don't worry about that. Everyone else is all settled up? I noticed that you didn't come in with nearly as many bags as the others,"

Christine shrugged beside him. "Waste not, want not," she said. Erik didn't know what she meant by that, but he smiled anyway.

Erik wanted to hold her, but courage was in short supply. If she rejected his touch, it would be painful to him, but Erik reached for her anyway. His hand moved below the sheets until his fingertips grazed the naked flesh of her shoulder. He skimmed the downy length of her arm, over the ridge of her elbow, until their fingers were laced.

Christine held tight to his hand and moved closer to him, smiling and eager, until his precious girl was resting against his chest. Erik held her then, and time turned backwards. Husband and wife, nestled together in bed.

Erik leaned back into the pillows and felt everything but Christine drift away.

* * *

Christine awoke that morning alone. She frowned when she glanced at the clock. It was early. How long ago had Erik risen from their bed? Christine touched his pillow, it was cool. So he'd been gone long enough. She looked past the bed, however, and found a note on his nightstand. 

**Christine,**

**As you advised, I've gone to find a costume for tonight. I will be gone for most of the day, but will meet you here at 6 o'clock and we can make an entrance together. As you slept, I reviewed the pictures from last night. You are beautiful, as always. **

**Until tonight,**

**Erik**

**PS- It was wonderful to wake up with you beside me. I never wish to go to bed angry or alone again. **

Smiling, she set the note aside and got out of bed. She padded down the hallway and went down a floor, to the rose room that she'd been using for the past several days for a change of clothes. The night might have been spent back in their room, but all of Christine's things were still downstairs. She took a deep breath of satisfaction once she stepped inside and took a look around.

_I won't sleep here any more, I've got to move my things back into _our_ room,_ she thought as she went into the closet. Quickly, Christine changed her clothes and began to gather her things- shoes, makeup, hair clips, books, CDs- making trips back and forth, moving her things carefully. Happily, she rearranged her closet neatly, and stocked her side of their bathroom with her various makeup cases and creams.

The last item left behind in the rose room was the large drawing that Erik had created for her. Christine had had it framed and mounted above the bed, but she left it there. Erik had said that he didn't want the drawing anymore- his interpretation of Christine as a goddess had faded when she looked at his naked face.

Christine felt confident that Erik's view of her through rose-tinted lenses had cleared. He could see her as a real person, not the ideal image that he'd harbored forever in his mind as the embodiment of love. It was too great a responsibility to be Erik's living fantasy, being his only hope was dangerous. Christine would always be beautiful and faithful to him, but Erik had to learn to see her as flesh and blood, flawed and foolish as the rest of the world, not some vision of perfection.

Christine was only human…a woman brought into his life by bizarre circumstance, but she felt a great, sudden upswell of happiness. She was in love with a man who loved her, and they'd just overcome the greatest obstacle facing them. Soon, they would come together.

After Christine had rearranged her things in the bedroom, she bounded downstairs to find her friends. "Hey guys!" she chirped as she came into the kitchen. She took a seat at the table and started to serve herself a plate of breakfast.

"You're in a great mood this morning," Meg said with a raised brow. "You and Erik, ah, _make up_ last night?"

Christine giggled. "As a matter of fact, yes we did!"

Raoul smiled. "Oh, that's good. Is he going to leave his cave anytime soon? I've already forgotten what the guy looks like!"

Christine didn't notice Claire's deep frown.

"He's already left to find himself a costume for the masquerade party. Erik will be coming with us tonight," she said.

Meg swallowed her eggs and smiled, "Well that's great. I'm glad you guys are all right now, you look like it's taken a weight off your shoulders,"

"You have no idea! I feel fantastic, you know? I know you don't know him at all, but I promise you'll get to know him tonight. He's strange, but he can be so wonderful," Christine said.

Raoul and Meg were both happy to see Christine so relieved- it had been troubling to see their friend so upset over a problem that they couldn't help her with, but it was over, and now they could all relax.

As the children chattered about their plans for the night, Claire set to thinking. She hadn't said anything to Christine yet for fear of what Erik would do to Meg- but today was their last day, their plane left tomorrow. She couldn't let this go on, Christine deserved so much more than this.

Claire couldn't let Erik win…

* * *

The day passed quickly, much to Claire's agitation. Hours had flown by as Christine eagerly awaited Erik's return to the chateau. The girl was anxious to attend the masquerade with him, and it still vexed Claire to no end. 

Why did Erik have to come back into her life through a girl young enough to be Meg's sister? Why did it have to be Christine? Claire knew how unstable and desperate Erik could become- Claire was terrified for Christine's sake. She'd overheard the girls talking; Claire knew that Erik had not yet taken Christine, but it could only be a matter of time. Through manipulation or by brute-force, Erik would have her, and Claire couldn't let that happen if she could help it.

The worst part of it all was that Christine didn't appear bothered by Erik at all. She had seen his face and still her only complaint was that Erik was too often reserved and shy. There was no doubt in Claire's mind that Erik had done something to her that had altered her behavior towards him. Christine had disappeared for days before contact was made to Raoul and Meg- even then, the letters she'd sent were short and offered no true explanations.

When the e-mails had begun, it was not solid proof that Christine was safe. After all, Erik could type as well as anyone. It could have been Erik playing puppet master all this time. He's done it before, he could do it again.

The only problem was that Erik was toying with someone that Claire had come to love as one of her own. Erik had said that after they left to return back to the island, Christine would never be seen again. She shuddered when she thought of the things Erik could do to her. She had witnessed a man kill himself after being entranced by Erik's voice. Who knew what fantasies he would force upon Christine- that is, if he hadn't already.

Claire glared at her reflection as she adjusted her costume. She had wanted something simple and modest, while at the same time keeping with the spirit of masquerade. She had chosen to appear as a Roman queen in a loose white toga dress, complete with gold bangles and a laurel leaf crown.

_Like the Romans, I must use treachery to gain my own ends. I'm sorry to take away your plaything, Erik, but I can't let you keep Christine. You don't deserve that much happiness._

She swept downstairs to find everyone in costume, all waiting in the front salon. Her hands tensed. There were only fifteen minutes left before Erik would arrive in his own costume and take them all to the party. Claire glanced at Christine, so pretty and kind, and knew that she was doing the right thing by keeping them apart.

"Christine, I just got a call from Erik. He's running very late and wants us to go ahead without him. He said he might be able to meet with us later, but not to count on him," Claire said, thankful that her voice had kept steady.

Christine frowned, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I just got off the phone with him. I'm sorry, Christine, but don't let it get you down. We'll have a great time, no matter what,"

_And then I can convince you to come home with us, it's where you really belong..._

Christine sighed deeply; visibly hurt by this turn of events, but her obvious disappointment only lasted a few moments. She brightened for them. "It's all right guys, let's get going, I'll just leave a quick note for him in the kitchen,"

She ran down the hall to jot a note and left it on the counter. As she expressed to Marcel what had happened, Claire took a look at the short letter.

**Got your message from Ms. Giry, sorry you couldn't make it on time. Try to meet us at the party, I'll save a dance for you– Love, Christine**

No, that wouldn't do at all! Why not just paint a target on her forehead? Claire glanced behind her and watched as Marcel went to retrieve the car, and Christine returned to Meg and Raoul to wait in the front of the house.

Claire tossed the first note and wrote a new one, taking extra care to try matching Christine's loopy handwriting.

**Erik, I've gone ahead to the masquerade without you.**

She smiled to herself in slight satisfaction. The note was short, offering no explanation about the change of plans and most importantly, no apologies. One simple sentence, but depending on the mood of the reader, it could be taken as a light message, or an angry declaration.

Well, the object here was to keep them apart and the best way to do so would be to keep them confused. Claire replaced the note and joined the rest of them as Marcel pulled the car into the front drive. Soon they were all seated and on their way to the masquerade.

* * *

Erik stepped into his home just as the car carrying Christine and their guests turned a corner and disappeared from his sight. He was already wearing his costume, a fine suit of scarlet and ebony. It was artfully torn in some areas but impeccably clean; a black mask was worn over his face, not so different than the ones he usually wore around the house. Also, to complete the ensemble, a plumed hat. 

It certainly gave Erik a more flamboyant air, but the costume suggested that whomever he encountered would meet a swift and clean demise. No brute force or messy blades would be used. No, Erik, the Red Death, could kill with the softest touch of the hand.

What elegant violence!

Excitement bloomed in his chest; he knew Christine would be impressed with his choice of costume. However, as he got closer to the chateau, it appeared that no one was inside. Only the porch light above the door was on, the rest of the house was dark. He thought that perhaps they might be in the backyard waiting for him, but already there was a chill in the air- no, they would be inside, but then why would they wait in darkness?

Erik stepped into the house with caution, not knowing what to expect. Perhaps they'd gone out for something, and would return soon. He shrugged to himself, still feeling strangely lighthearted. Christine would love his costume, and he couldn't wait to see hers.

He moved into the kitchen and switched on a light. The note immediately caught his attention_. What? She's already gone ahead to the masquerade? I know she received my letter from this morning, I thought everything was going to be all right between us. I must've angered her in some way- I have to speak with her!_

Erik wasted no time in heading out to the masquerade, intent on finding his Christine. His mind raced over what he could have done to earn such a cold write-off. Perhaps she was angry with him for not waking with her? No. More often than not he had left their bed before she had awoken, so what could it be?

Thankfully, the masquerade site came into view. It was a large hall set in one of the art districts, the perfect place for a costume exhibition. The security was lax, and Erik slipped inside easily. He frowned to himself however, when he realized that he didn't know what costume Christine had chosen. She could be anyone there!

Frustration nagged at his mind. How would he find her here, amongst so many other costumed young ladies? The feat seemed impossible, she would be a needle in a haystack, but he had to try. Erik desperately wanted their marriage to work; he only wanted them to be happy together.

The crowd was growing quickly as more and more people were admitted to the floor. The building had been sectioned off- a loud dance floor, a great bar, a lounge area and a tearoom. The party took up two floors of the hall, and Erik had no idea where to start. He knew not if Christine was wearing a mask, or even what color to start searching for.

He sighed to himself. It was bound to be a long night.

Erik went to the top floor of the masquerade, and searched the sea of faces. He ignored the dance floor. The people were moving too fast under the colorful strobe lights; it was impossible for him to look for Christine there.

Instead, he walked to the lounge and tearoom. He could not find her anywhere! Anger washed over him, but he did not give up. It was so hot- the crowd, his costume, the mask...with a boldness borne of necessity, Erik did the unthinkable, and removed his mask.

He risked raising his head just enough to gauge the reactions of those around him. No one seemed to notice his exposure, and this made him feel relief. It was a costume party, after all, and everyone was drinking. He was safe for now.

Besides, without the mask Erik could see much better, and so he resumed his search, though out of habit he stayed as far from other people as he could. He often retreated towards the shadows, and kept his hat tucked firmly down to cover him as much as possible.

It might have been a masquerade, but Erik knew how people would react if they found a true monster in their midst.

* * *

An hour later, Erik felt as if he were running around in circles in his quest to find Christine. The search had already gone on most of the night and he was getting tired of running into the same groups of drunken party-goers, all he wanted was an explanation of why she'd left without him. 

It just didn't seem like her.

Erik leaned his arms onto the railing of the second floor and let his eyes wander the lounge below. Perhaps if he stopped moving, Christine would eventually find her way into his sight. He had a drink with him and took a grateful sip- the hat and suit was making him uncomfortably warm.

"You can drink in that?"

Erik looked over to find Frankenstein's monster standing beside him, accompanied by a ravishing vampire. "Pardon?"

"I have to take mine off, the mouth hole is hardly even big enough to put a straw through," the monster said. "I love it though, it's so life-like."

"Oh! Ah, thank you," Erik said. _Life-like_ wasn't a term he'd use to describe his face, considering that he appeared as a corpse, but he accepted the compliment anyway. "I like your mask, your whole costume, really. _Frankenstein_ was one of my favorite novels and films."

The vampire beside the monster laughed, "I'll bet! And _Dracula_ was mine. So, are you here alone?"

"I'm meeting friends, I just haven't found them yet," Erik said.

She smiled and revealed a fine set of fangs. "Well, if you don't find them, come find us- I've got to show my friends that mask of yours."

Erik smiled.

"Wow, it moves with your face and everything! It's so real…you know, if I didn't know better I would think it was really a corpse looking at me! Ha-ha, wherever did you get such a face?" The vamp asked.

Erik sighed. "My mother," he said and turned away to find a less crowded area for viewing the lounge. He got an iced refill of his drink and removed his hat to cool off.

His eyes lazily roamed the lounge until he found them- or rather, only two of his party. Resting together on one of the couches brought in for the party, Erik found Raoul and Christine. He had a perfect view of Christine's face, while Raoul's back was to him. They were laughing together, almost hysterical. Christine playfully swatted at Raoul's shoulder, and he took her hand, kissing it in mock gallantry.

Erik's grip tightened on the railing.

Christine threw her head back and laughed, full and deep, before she leaned forward and kissed Raoul's cheek. Erik's heart lurched painfully.

"You see, Erik? I tried to tell you, but you just wouldn't listen. Christine is coming home with us, she and Raoul have reconnected. It's over, Erik." Claire hissed from beside him.

Erik watched as Christine and Raoul embraced and then rose to the dance floor. There was joy in Christine's face.

_Oh, Christine…_


	21. The Power of Suggestion

**Author's Note: Peronally, I can't stand songfics or fics that have lyrics weaved throughout the story, it drives me crazy. However, if anyone wants to understand how Erik was feeling or sort of identify with what was going through his mind in this chapter, I strongly suggest the song _Roxanne_ from the _Moulin Rouge!_ soundtrack at top volume. Often, words are not enough to convey moments of intensity, and that's why we've invented music ;-)**

* * *

The night had been a fantastic event, just as Christine knew it would be. Meg had been adorable dressed as a pixie while Raoul had made a very dashing prince; Christine had earned a few admiring looks for her own costume at the masquerade. The three of them had been a great force to reckon with when it came time for the costume contest, and together they had won first place in the group contest. Unfortunately none of them had even been considered for the individual competition, but it would have been a night to remember if there had not been a contest in the first place anyway because of all the fun. 

It was a shame that Erik had missed out on the night.

Erik, that was the problem. He hadn't made it to the costume party, and Christine was let down though she'd made an effort not to show it. Ms. Giry had mentioned that he wouldn't be able to attend because he was running so late. Christine hadn't thought much of it at the time, but here on the ride home, she had a few quiet moments to ponder.

Erik had never been late for anything in all the time that she had known him; in fact he was punctual to a fault. Furthermore, why hadn't he asked to speak directly to Christine when he delivered the message?

Things weren't adding up, but she was still riding high on the night's excitement, so happy to be with her friends.

"The masquerade has been the best part of the whole trip," Meg gushed. "I'm going to move to Paris next year- Christine, you and I will be neighbors, I swear it!"

Raoul chuckled. "Then that makes two of us. No point in staying on the island anymore when my two best friends will have moved off. I already called my brother a few days ago and arranged for a house here in the city, we have to go see it,"

"I still don't know why you bothered to live on the island with us at all, Raoul. Your family is so well-off, you could live anywhere in the world!" Christine said.

Raoul shrugged, "Ah, Christine, haven't you heard that American expression? It goes, _home is_ _where the heart is_. Sentimental, don't you think? I stayed there because my family roots are on that island. Our grandparents are buried there, but I stayed these last few years because I didn't think I could leave the two of you. Now that you'll both be in Paris, I have to move."

Christine patted his knee. "You love us that much, Raoul?"

"Of course, you didn't think I could be such a spoiled brat, did you? We've known each other all our lives, of course I love you," he said, kissing her hand.

"Oh, so gallant! Raoul, you might as well be a vicomte!" Meg laughed.

He raised an eyebrow, "You don't think I'd have what it takes to be a full comte? I'm smart in business and great with the ladies!"

Christine laughed, "You'd only be a vicomte, Philippe would be the comte- either him or your father,"

Raoul gave them both an evil look. "Then I know just who to kill to win the seat of family power."

The car exploded in laughter.

* * *

Erik sat in the front salon, waiting for everyone to come back from the masquerade. He sat, patient and faithful as a lowly dog. He was pathetic, he knew, and miserable as well. His wife, his love, was happier to be away from him with another man. 

Christine was happier to be with Raoul de Chagny.

Again, he held no ill will towards the boy. There was no way to compete with him; Raoul was young, confident and handsome. What had the Queen called him? Oh, yes, a Golden God. A corpse could not contend with an Adonis. Erik knew he could kill Raoul, easily, but then he would only gain Christine's fierce hatred rather than merely the indifference she had shown tonight.

Grief and betrayal were wearing him down; unhappiness was draining to both body and mind.

Erik closed his eyes for a few moments, resting, not yet ready for sleep. He might never sleep again, not now when he knew that Christine would only dream of other men. He couldn't blame her- there was no anger, no jealousy. Only resignation and the usual bitter acceptance.

_She doesn't love me anymore, perhaps she no longer cares at all…_

For the moment, Erik was glad to be alone. He hadn't bothered with another mask once he'd made it home to his chateau. The house was empty now and had been for several hours; it was a dark, cavernous place ideal for his sadness. _Yes, sadness_. Erik felt stripped of everything.

No more joy or passion, no fury or rage or desire to kill…he was simply very sad.

Christine had wanted to mend things between them, but it was just in her nature to bring peace. She might see Erik as just a friend now; he had to admit that her friendship would be better than nothing, but he had wanted so much more…to witness the love grow between Raoul and _his_ Christine would be a slow killing. Again, Erik did not blame her- she really couldn't help where her soul had found love.

_But why now…?_

Christine was no more a champion over her feelings than Erik was over his. They were truly alike in few ways, but in this instance they shared the trait of being helpless to the heart.

White light swung across the wall before him in a graceful arc- the car had come into the driveway. Erik could hear the engine; one of the doors opened and then shut. He could hear voices outside, all of them excited and happy. A great deal of laughter. Erik wondered if Christine was kissing Raoul again at that very moment, in front of the home she had shared with him for months.

The car's engine died away- Erik assumed that Marcel was pulling it into the separate garage at the back of the house. The front door opened, but he could hear only one pair of shoes clicking on the floor.

_Clicking shoes, a woman then…never mine…_

Erik exerted the effort of raising his head from the back of the chair where he'd been resting. The house was dark. He watched as the figure, Christine, groped her way to a light switch. The frosted light came alive in the foyer and Christine glanced around; she had expected him to be there.

"Erik?" She called out.

For a moment Erik romanced the idea of staying where he was. He was still in shadow; the foyer light didn't reach far into his cozy front salon. Christine wouldn't think to look for him in there. He might just ignore her, stay where he was and gather his strength until the morning, where he would have regained his anger and vengeful energy enough to confront her.

But no.

"I'm in here, Christine," he called out to her. Erik didn't like how flat his voice sounded.

She turned sharply to her left and stepped inside the room. Again, she groped for the lights and as he watched her, Erik remembered himself. "No, Christine. It would be better to leave them off. I'm not wearing my mask,"

He could see her face clearly as if she had been standing before him in the full light of day. Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side, she was trying to figure out where he was in the room. Erik watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed and moistened her lips. "Why not?"

"I left it somewhere and I didn't feel like looking for a new one is all. Best to leave the light out if you want to speak with me," he said. He was tired, it seemed even the simplest pleasures were beyond his reach.

Christine creased her brows and took a quick breath. "Erik, I'm not afraid of your face. I know I reacted horribly that night. I promise you, it was only because I was startled. If you let me turn on the lights, I won't look at you with fear or disgust. I'll look at you like I would look at anyone else, I swear. Please, Erik?"

There was a silence, broken with an audible sigh. "If you wish, just…keep them low, please,"

Christine did as Erik wished, and turned to the wall. The light wheel was there, and she turned it. "All right, say when,"

Erik allowed her to illuminate the room just far enough that she would be able to see him clearly, but it wasn't so bright that she would be able to see every last detail. He didn't warm to the idea of her counting the veins exposed at his temples instead of looking him in the eyes when they finally spoke face-to-face for the first time.

"That's enough Christine," he said, meaning the light.

Erik watched her back, although it was difficult for him to judge her body language from across the room. She wore a long black cloak that enveloped her from the shoulders down. Idly, he wondered about her costume underneath.

Slowly, Christine turned to face him. Instinctively, Erik looked away from her as she came closer and sat down in the soft leather chair across from him. Turned toward the shadows as he was, Erik's hair fell over his face; a black curtain to keep him hidden.

Christine glanced down to see his pale hands clenched over his knees. She scooted her chair closer to his, until they were an inch apart. She brought her hand over his- the icy chill remained on his skin, but she felt the tension leave his skeletal fingers.

"Erik, let me look at you, please…"

He did not reply, he only turned toward her. Very slowly, deliberately exposing himself inches at a time; he wanted to spare her the shock of seeing him all at once. First, she observed the mottled skin tone that began just under his jaw and ears, at the pulse points of his neck. He moved a few more inches to reveal his chin and mouth. His lips were set in a tight, thin line. They were not pink as hers were, but they were a slightly darker shade of gray than that of the surrounding skin of his face.

Above his lips was his most frightening of attributes, or perhaps lack thereof- the small triangular hole in the center of his face where a nose seemed never to have grown. The pale gray skin over his cheekbones seemed taut, papery thin. Christine wondered, if she pinched Erik's cheek, would the skin tear off and come away with her fingers?

Finally, she came to meet his eyes. The twin amber flames danced at her from their recessed sockets, the skin surrounding his eyes was very dark, nearly black in the dim light.

Erik was a devastating sight; there was never a man alive who could've denied the fact. Christine kept her face straight at they stared at each other, mere feet of distance separating them. It was strange to look at him now, when for weeks she had grown so accustomed to his masks in place of a true face.

To her mind, when she thought of Erik, she pictured a body and a voice, a pair of luminous eyes. His face had been an ever-changing sea of color and finishes; his masks had been full, covering him from chin to forehead. As different as they had been, the masks had been uniform in their facial composition- they had all possessed straight noses, high cheekbones and occasionally a grinning mouth.

_So this is the real Erik..._

He had not moved, not even to blink. Erik remained as still as he could; he knew the effect of sudden movements when he wore no mask. Christine continued her assessment, and he allowed her eyes to roam him, however uncomfortable it made him feel. She seemed to be satisfied, finally, when the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Well, say something, Erik!"

He hadn't expected her to smile at him; the girl seemed suddenly playful. "I…you're not afraid of me,"

"No, I never was. It just caught me by surprise the first time, we never really had a chance to talk about it…" Christine said.

Erik noticed that she had not lifted her hand from his. Tentatively, he turned his hand over, palm-to-palm, and laced their fingers. "That is my fault. I have no experience in these sorts of things."

Christine gently squeezed his hand; her expression was reassuring, but very serious. "Erik, it's all right. I understand. But…I figured out some things tonight, we need to talk right now. It's very important."

The pain of dread instantly arrested Erik's body.

_She is an honest girl, a good woman. She only wants to tell me the name of the man who has claimed her heart before she leaves me. No need, Christine. I know him quite well already- Raoul de Chagny! Your first lover, your first love! How could I have expected you to stay with me? Oh, God…I never thought it could hurt this much…!_

Christine stood from her chair. "I'd like to go talk in our room, please," she said as she crossed the room, expecting Erik to follow her.

Sadness and grief washed over the man, seizing his chest. Erik stood on shaking legs and took a deep, painful breath as he rose to follow her towards the door. "Christine," he said suddenly.

She turned around and smiled at him. Good God, had he ever seen anything so wonderful? Erik's heart clenched, his stomach knotted and his thoughts raced, as if he were facing his own death. In a way he'd never known before, he felt as if he had died already.

_Please, no, not yet. Christine, there's still so much we haven't done, so many things I never had the chance to say…_

"Yes, Erik?"

"Christine, you just…you look so beautiful tonight,"

Her smile brightened even more at his compliment. Her eyes lit up, eager and so happy. "Thank you Erik. I never thought I'd find a use for this again, but for tonight it worked perfectly,"

Christine stood in the middle of the double doorframe between the front foyer and the salon. She tugged on the gold ties of her cloak it fell away, a pool of black velvet at her feet. Underneath, she wore the outfit of violet silk that she'd worn on their first day together, all those months ago in Tejar.

The same outfit she'd been wearing when she had agreed to wear Erik's ring.

_O, Christine…I'd thought you such an honest, pure angel, but I can see it now, I can see what you really are. You think I'll let you leave me for him in those wedding silks? _

Christine smiled brightly, expecting to share a laugh with Erik about her costume. She knew that he'd recognize the violet silk that she'd been wearing when they first met. It had been her plan to keep herself hidden in the cloak until they'd arrived together at the masquerade- she had wanted to surprise him at the party. Leaving Erik speechless was one feat she'd thought difficult, but not impossible. The only way to do it would have been to catch him off guard by wearing the costume; it had seemed to her a wonderful idea.

At the time.

Christine stood before him in the costume with the warm cloak at her feet. Erik stood before her, and though she could see his face Christine couldn't read his expression. She hoped that in time she would come to know his face as well as he knew hers. As it was, she couldn't read his thoughts and his features were frozen.

His entire form had gone still, though his eyes shifted slightly, just enough that she knew he was looking her up and down. Still, he didn't say anything. She heard a strange, muffled noise in his throat, and his long fingers were twitching at his sides.

"Erik, don't you recognize my costume?"

Finally, he found his voice. Christine felt her stomach drop at the menace she heard laced into his words. "Of course I remember. You wore that when _you took my ring_. Thought you'd wear it tonight for _him_, did you?"

Christine frowned as Erik stepped closer to her. He'd drawn himself up to his full height, and as he came closer she saw that in place of his usual grim suits, he wore a costume of blood-red and obsidian. It was torn and tattered. Mad devil!

"What do you mean?" she asked; alarmed instincts were sounding off within her, but Christine couldn't understand what had happened.

"You thought I didn't know? I was unsure what your note meant at first, but I went to the masquerade to see, to be certain,"

"You were there?"

"And I saw what you did." Erik said with a strange clipped tone. His words reminded her of a blade, the guillotine chop. "I once thought that I could get by without, but now that I've had a taste I know that I've become an addict. I will not let him take you from me, Christine. You promised yourself to me, how can you go back on your word like this? After everything I've done for you?"

"Erik, I don't know what you mean-"

"I won't have it, do you understand me? I've earned this happiness; you are my gift, my reward. I won't let you or anyone else make a fool of me!" Erik yelled.

Before Christine could move out of his way, Erik had pounced on her and backed her into the wall. He shoved her hard enough that she hit her head, but he did not relent. The skeletal fingers gripped her wrists and pinned them on either side of her face. "Erik, let me go!" She screamed as she fought against him.

Erik moved closer and trapped her with his larger, stronger body. "No, you are mine, I'll see you dead before I see you with another man!"

Christine felt his cold hand seize her neck and all at once a sea of blackness washed over her mind, drowning her. Erik breathed heavily as he held the slumped body of his wife. His hand stroked over her dark hair. He touched her cheek and lips. A soft whisper slipped through the darkness. "My Christine…"

* * *

"This is it, Casa de Chagny," Raoul announced as he opened the door and stepped over the threshold. "Not exactly the Latour chateau, but it'll do," he drawled in mock modesty. 

In fact, the place that he'd secured from his brother was actually a high-rise penthouse apartment in one of the many artistic districts of Paris. Here Raoul would be better able to aid his brother with the family business. Philippe had been glad that Raoul finally felt ready to take a more active role in the family, he had been anticipating the time when Raoul would become less a student and more a partner in the company. Their father had been happy to hear the news as well and had given Philippe a hand in procuring Raoul's new home.

He flipped a light switch and tried not to smile as Meg, Claire and Marcel began to look around his new place. "Yeah, I guess you'll have to make due with only three bedrooms, huh Raoul?" Meg teased.

Raoul smiled and took off the jacket of his prince costume before he sat down on the couch in the sunken living room. Claire observed as she usually did, with a stern eye. _Such a young man with a place like this! Too much money for his own good, just like his brother…still, I would rather have Christine with Raoul than with Erik. I can only hope that what he saw at the masquerade was enough to turn her out of his life…_

Raoul set up his guests with drinks and they all became quite comfortable in his new home. He opened a few windows to allow the cool breeze through the room; the winds came, scented with jasmine. Though it had been warm enough to swim only the week before, the autumn was quickly sweeping the country. Raoul looked out over the city. _'There really is nothing like holidays in_ _Paris,_ he thought. _The island is the base of the family, its where we came from, but Paris is my home._

His thoughts were interrupted by a chirping ring. Raoul glanced back to the living room. Meg took her cell and stepped aside to talk. The conversation was quick. Meg turned around to address them, her face kitted in confusion. "Um, that was Christine…at least, I think it was…"

Claire stood up and went to her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, she just sounded a little…nevermind, she just said that she and Erik, well, you know, wouldn't mind if we stayed with Raoul tonight," Meg said, wiggling her eyebrows and trying not to smile.

Claire's expression was as disapproving as ever.

Raoul, however, took the news easily, "Great, we can have a slumber party. Me, Meg, Marcel and Meg's mom." He laughed. He understood that the newlyweds needed time alone, and truly he wouldn't have minded some time alone with Meg, but he could hardly approach her with her mother always looking over his shoulder with those irritable eyes.

As if Claire had read Raoul's mind, she ushered Meg into one of the bedrooms for them to share, leaving Raoul in the living room with Marcel. "That was strange, is Madame Giry against all men or just the ones she's met?" Marcel asked.

Raoul shrugged. "No idea, I've known her most of my life- Christine and me both, she's always been pretty overbearing. Overprotective of the girls and constantly nagging at me and my brother. Who needs a mom when you've got the neighbor, right?" Raoul laughed.

Marcel smiled. "Would you like a refill, sir?"

"Hey, you're not on duty. I should ask you, and while I'm at it, let me ask you who you like for next year's World Cup," Raoul said as he filled the other man's cup. Marcel smiled, it had been a while since anyone other than Christine had treated him as more a man than a servant.

* * *

Back in the bedroom, Claire began her interrogation of Meg. "How did she sound? You said that she didn't sound like her usual self," 

Meg shrugged and kicked off her shoes. She didn't know why her mother always had to be so nosy with other people's business. "I don't know mom, Christine's voice just sounded…I don't know, distant, I guess. Like she was distracted or something,"

"But what did she say?"

"She just said that Erik wanted her alone for tonight, and that we should keep away from the chateau for a little while that's all," Meg said through a yawn as she flopped on the bed.

"Erik wasn't on the phone?"

"No! It was just Christine, and she said that we could come over in the morning for breakfast before our flight left tomorrow,"

Claire sighed. Meg was tired, and had given all the details that she could. Looking out the bedroom window, Claire wept a silent prayer for Christine. The phone call did not bode well, nor did the veiled warning.

They were Erik's words, not Christine's.

Claire shuddered to think about what he would do to that girl now that he had her alone, and had witnessed her betrayal. _Oh Christine, what have I done…?_

* * *

"Our flight leaves in a little over an hour, where is Christine?" Claire demanded upon seeing Erik. 

The man was only halfway down the stairs, dressed in a long robe over black silk pajamas. A matte black mask was over his face, his eyes were dancing flames. Erik could see behind her that Marcel and Meg were still in the driveway saying their goodbyes. Raoul wasn't with them, a fact that satisfied him very much.

"Claire, you are polite as ever. I wish that I could run up and fetch her for you, but I'm afraid that _Christine sleeps like the dead_," he said smoothly, glaring at her.

Claire felt her stomach drop. "Oh God…Erik, what have you done?"

"Only what is natural between a man and his wife. It is not of your concern, it never was," he said sharply.

"Not my concern- Erik I know that you've kidnapped her, you can't keep her here as your slave night after night, you know she'll never love you,"

"Watch what you say, Claire, or I may let it slip to little Meg how she came into this world. You know I'll do it, I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."

"You're a slimy bastard-"

"And you are a dried up old crone, what difference does it make? We can insult each other until the end of time, but I'm afraid that I already have my mother to contend with. You have your daughter and your home. I gave them to you, I can take them away. Forget Christine, she is _mine."_ Erik warned her, his voice icy and his posture imposing.

"Oh, good morning Erik!" Meg chirped as she stepped into the house.

At the sight of the cheerful blonde, Erik's entire demeanor shifted from the intimidating, manipulative creature that Claire had come to loathe to the kind, gentle man Meg thought him to be. "Meg, how are you?" He asked kindly.

She shrugged, "I'm doing all right, though I wish we could stay longer,"

Erik resumed his descent down the stairs and stood before her. He genuinely liked Meg, and she made Christine so happy…perhaps he might do away with Claire, and allow the girl to stay as a companion for his wife. Claire stood off to the side; clearly terrified that Erik might harm her daughter.

Erik smiled wickedly behind the mask. It was great fun to him to tease Claire- he loved to toy with her. Did she expect he'd attack Meg there in the foyer? "I'm sorry Meg, and I do wish that we could extend your visit. Perhaps you might come see us again at Christmas?"

Meg nodded, "I'd like that. It would be good to spend a little time with you and get to know you better,"

Erik put a hand on Meg's shoulder and tried not to laugh out loud at Claire's terrified expression behind her daughter's back. He was deliberately trying to scare the older woman, and having fun doing so. Did she see him as such a monster?

"I would love to know you better as well. Lord knows I have room to spare- it would make Christine very happy if you could come and stay with us. I would welcome some…_fresh blood_ here in the house," Erik told Meg, though his eyes bore into those of her mother.

Claire could take no more. "That's not your decision, Erik! Meg will stay with me, and frankly I think that Christine should come home with us as well,"

Meg raised her brows, "What are you talking about? Christine and Erik are married, she can't come home with us,"

"Meg, you took the words right out of my mouth," Erik said lightly. "Claire, you can't be so petty as to demand I release my wife just because of the history we share,"

It was a deliberate taunt, seeding the doubt in Meg's mind about her mother's past, and how Erik played into it all. She stood beside Erik and turned to her mother. Claire didn't like that his spidery hand remained on Meg's shoulder- she couldn't trust the man; he was devious as a snake. Meg's brow was furrowed and her mouth was tense. "Mom, what is he talking about?"

Before Claire could answer, Erik spoke for her. "Oh, it's nothing too troubling, little Meg. Your mother and I simply have a misunderstanding that's about two decades old. If you'd like me to enlighten you-"

"No, Erik, stop,"

"Oh all right Claire. We shouldn't be wasting time arguing about all this now. You two must say goodbye to Christine, and then I suppose the two of you can clear the air on the flight back home," Erik said, feeling smug and triumphant.

He glanced up. "Oh, and here she is now. Christine, darling, come downstairs. Claire and Meg will be leaving us soon,"

Christine stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a kimono-style robe of petal pink. Her hair flowed over her back, her expression very serene. She looked down and saw her friends and her husband below her. Graceful as a queen, she made her way downstairs. "I'm so glad that you were able to come visit me," she said as she stepped to Meg and hugged her friend. "I had a great time with you,"

Meg patted her on the back. "Christine, home isn't the same without you…"

"Well, you can always come and live with us," Christine said hopefully.

Meg pulled back and laughed, "I think I'd rather live with Raoul than get in the way of you two lovebirds,"

"Meg!" Claire barked sharply.

"Oh, just kidding mom!" Meg said, but then leaned in and whispered to Christine, "Really, I'd love to stay if I'm ever able to come back to Paris,"

Christine laughed and went to Erik, who wrapped his arm around her waist. "Well, not to rush you, but your flight…"

Meg mock-pouted, "Okay, Erik, you don't have to kick us out…I'm just joking," she smiled. "Don't worry, Erik, we'll be out of your hair in just a second."

Meg then did the unthinkable; she stepped over and slipped her arms around Erik. He seemed totally caught off guard, but then awkwardly returned the hug to Meg. "Ah, um, I'll miss you too Meg. Remember, you're always welcome to come back to us,"

Meg glanced at her mother, who seemed somehow caught between a scowl and the urge to scream. "I'll keep that in mind, Erik, thank you. Christine, you're my best friend, I love you. Promise me you'll write and call until our next visit, all right?"

Christine nodded. "You know I will, Meg."

Claire could take no more of this. "That's enough, Meg, let's go,"

Practically dragging Meg away from Erik and Christine, Claire pulled her daughter along and at once were back into the car. Marcel was a swift driver, the car had vanished from the drive in no time at all.

Erik turned to Christine. "Wonderful performance, my wife. How are you feeling?"

She smiled at him. "I feel fine Erik, perfect in fact."

"Yes, because you are. Now, let's get back to the bedroom," Erik said as he led her back up the stairs. They padded down the hallway and Erik opened the door to allow Christine to enter the room first.

She sat down on the bed. Erik frowned as he took up his camera. "Christine?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"Strip for me."

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh, snap!**


	22. The Torment of Silence

**Erik **

She's on the bed now- my wife, my beautiful girl. Christine. She's naked but for the scarlet sheet of silk draped over her body. Her body; long, slender, strong. She tilts her head, the ebony falls over her shoulder. My camera clicks fast and furious in the morning light.

Her blank eyes rise to meet mine. Her lips curl subtly, but her grin is not genuine. She grins because I've said that she should. Everything she does is a result of my gentle suggestion- Christine is a puppet. The camera clicks. The girl slides effortlessly into a new pose. Where once she was covered completely, now the sheet falls across her loins only. Her breasts are bared without shame or fear.

I've made Christine my puppet, but I have not taken her.

I cannot take this girl- I've numbed her mind, but I remember her as my friend. I will not hurt her or take her; I only want what's owed to me. The wife I've always longed for…this cannot last forever. I cannot keep her as a brainless thing in my home. I'd been angry with her last night. Christine had been surprised with my upset, fearful. I had grabbed her and pushed her to the wall.

_Erik, you bastard!_

I forced her to look in my eyes and listen to my voice. Christine had stood no chance against the onslaught I'd overwhelmed her with. Entranced, her body had slumped, and I took her to bed. Placing her in the center of the bed we shared, I stood over her and gazed upon her face for several long minutes.

_Beautiful, always beautiful._

A graver mistake I have never made! Hypnotize her? Take over Christine's mind and bend her will to match my own? Good God, what have I done?!

The trance will wear off soon; Christine will come to realize what it is I've done to her before the day is over. Perhaps, if I am lucky, she will not awaken from this mind-slumber I've put her into until tomorrow morning. That will give me the chance to sleep beside her one last time- my last gift stolen from her.

_Evil Erik- he could not earn love, he had to steal it from an angel that dared come too close to the mouth of hell..._

My camera snaps quickly in the dim light of our room. Candles dance around her. She turns her head and allows the black tumble of her hair to flow down her back. I lower the camera and hold out my hand to her. Without hesitation, Christine slips her hand into mine. "I'd like to take you to the garden," I tell her, and gesture to a dress I'd hung up on the hook in her closet door. "I want you to wear the lavender dress and I will photograph you once we're outside."

Blankly, she smiles and nods, "Of course Erik,"

The smile does not reach her eyes.

Dread is building in my chest, twisting and painful. Christine will awaken soon and know what I've done; I feared nothing before meeting this girl and now I'm sick with fear. I do not fear death, but I freely admit that I fear what my life will be when Christine leaves me.

And she _will_ leave me.

Not even six months married, and I've as good as raped my wife. I am beyond her forgiveness.

_O, Christine. I expect nothing from you when this trance wears off. You can rant and rave at me, hit me, curse my name and throw the ring back in my face- and then you will be gone. Still, I am a greedy, pathetic man. I will enjoy what I can, while I can. Soon I will be alone with only the memory of a girl to sustain me. It's more than I deserve but I will take it._

I watch as she steps into the lavender dress and pulls it up the length of her body. I hear the quick sound of the short zipper in the back. Christine turns to me. "The garden, Erik?"

I take her hand in mine. "The garden, Christine."

* * *

We pass William and Marcel as we make our way through the house; they suspect nothing to be out of the ordinary, and why should they? I am a man just as they are, and Christine is my wife. A man is free to take his wife anywhere that he should please, and his wife should follow happily. I can take her anywhere I want, but I will not take her body. I am a monster, but I will spare her the pain of my animal lust. 

The dread in my stomach turns over- a reminder that my life with Christine will soon come to an end.

As the trance will end, so will this false blanket of reality that I've draped over her mind. It will happen gradually, but it will happen as sure as the sun will rise. The fog will lift from her eyes, the veil blown by the winds of realization. I don't tease myself with the hopes of her forgiveness. Christine is wonderful, but she is not a saint. She will not forgive what I've done to her. How could she? How could anyone? Her very will was stolen from her, for a day she is my puppet. If I could go back and stop myself from hypnotizing her, I would.

It was a grave mistake to do this in the first place. I acted out of anger and betrayal. She meant to leave me for Raoul de Chagny and I had reacted worse than any jealous husband. Rather than yell at her, rather than abuse her, I stole her mind and twisted her will.

_God, how had you created such a monster as I?_

And so here we are in the backyard, beside the fountain. I moved mountains to make this chateau a presentable home for my wife. I gave her clothes and jewelry, perfume and money, I paid for her enrollment at the finest university in Paris in the fall…I gave her my heart and still she went to Raoul at the masquerade.

I can do anything but I can't make her truly love me. I can only steal a day, and try to pretend that it is real.

She had said that she'd wanted to resolve things with me, but perhaps she only meant to mend our friendship. It doesn't matter now. There will be no mending what I have done. In stealing her mind, I have stolen her trust. I can feel my insides twisting- the cold hand of God is squeezing my heart; He hates me, and wants me to suffer for my sins even before death.

_Christine…_

I take these photographs now only because I know that by this time tomorrow, all I will have of Christine are still images and tormenting memories. I cannot record her; to see the girl animated, to hear her voice and be able to watch as her face shifted from one expression to the next, well…that would be too much like living with a ghost.

No.

I'd rather surround myself with her image when she leaves me. It will be proof that she was really here, truly in my life, and that I had not dreamed it all.

Even if I had the time, I could never have enough of her and yet she's never been mine at all. It was Raoul's name she'd said that night in Tejar. As drugged as she'd been, Christine had called out for the one man she remembered with passion. My name never occurred to her. Perhaps even now as she poses for me, where her mind is still free, perhaps she still thinks of him.

_Raoul de Chagny,_ _you stayed in my home and did not insult me._

Christine must have told them about my masks, it's the only way to explain why both Raoul and Meg had been so readily accepting. He shook my hand as if I'd been a normal man. I liked that. He did not behave jealously or in any way possessive over Christine. Could it be that the boy respected our mariage? Had it been Christine that had pursued him, could it be that she had lured the young man?

Raoul's own feelings do not interest me. My only concern is for Christine. Claire had made it plain to me- Christine had been planning to leave me to return to the island, to return to a life without me in it. She kissed Raoul, I saw it with my own eyes. It was a quick kiss, little more than a peck, but I know Christine's lips.

Her kiss was meant for me alone, and yet she had given her lips to another man.

I snapped the camera at her and told her to lie on her back on the lip of the fountain. She complies without question. A subtle breeze is felt. The girl closes her eyes briefly and her dreaming smile is in place. I lower the camera and watch her for a moment. I move to sit on the fountain edge beside her. Christine looks up at me, her eyes are glassy thanks to what I've done. I reach my hand to her face and stroke her cheek.

_Why did you give me such hopes of a reunion, only to throw them back in my face and run off with the boy? Are you dreaming of him now? I should never have done this to you, but I had no choice. You would have left me last night. You will leave me tomorrow, I know you will. I stole this day, and will burn for it. If not in hell, than certainly in the fire of your hate._

I stroke her satin cheek and down the line of her throat, pausing once I reach the small V of her collarbone. A soft, content sigh escapes her lips. I could take her now if I wanted. She is naked under the dress. Her body flushes as I touch her. My hand moves lower, settling in the valley between her breasts, resting just over her sternum. Her toes curl in anticipation, but I will do no more.

I take a picture of her face, flushed and waiting for more of my touch. My body feels tight- I want her, desperately, but I am not an animal. No animal, but perhaps a glutton for punishment. Everything I've done has only made things worse between us. I can't cross that final line, it would destroy her and _I won't do it. _

"Christine, go stand by the orchids," I say abruptly.

Without question, she stands and walks to the flowers.

It sickens me to know how thoroughly I've corrupted her, but my camera cannot stop flashing.

* * *

I have her lay with me in the striped hammock set up between two trees behind a wall of Cyprus. We are invisible. She is warm curled against me, with her head resting on my shoulder and her hand idly stroking my chest. Our legs are tangled, her bare toes tap on my shoes. I have a hand resting on her waist. The hammock rocks us gently, but I will not give in to the urge to sleep now. 

My last day with Christine must be perfect, it would be the height of idiocy to waste time on sleep.

There is a tray of food for us, brought out by Sophie. I hold out a cube of fine cheese and Christine opens her mouth, the silent plea to be fed. Her teeth graze my fingertips as I feed her.

"Will you feed me?" I ask. "It's something I've seen lovers do," I add, although I know damn well there is no reason I should coax her.

The girl would walk off a cliff at my suggestion; there is no need to ask her anything when I can command it!

I enjoy my power over her, brief as it is. It is easier this way, to delude myself that I am the one in control when it is Christine who has taken the reigns of my heart.

She selects a morsel and I remove my mask. There is not the slightest hesitation when she sees my face in the unforgiving light of the sun. It is but a tidbit of food, but nothing tastes as wonderful as when fed to me by her tender fingers. When she leaves me, I may die of starvation, as all food will lose its appeal. How can I ever eat anything again that Christine has not fed to me?

_You are my slave, and I am yours…today you belong to me, tomorrow you will be free of the invisible chains over your mind…just one more day…_

We eat more, and sway together in the hammock. I hate this. Christine is too quiet, she is not happy or sad, or angry or playful. She simply _is_ and I hate it, I hate what I have done to her. There is no spark in her eyes or challenge in her voice. I feel as if the soul has been removed and I am left with the body of a woman to whom I swore that I would never hurt.

She rests against me, her expression blank. I stand and lead her from the hammock, and together we reenter the house. It is dusk already and I wish to hear her voice again, one last night of music before everything comes crashing down upon me.

* * *

I sit at the piano and bid Christine to sing for me, but her voice…so flat, so lifeless! Just like her eyes! There is no passion to her music, no passion because by entrancing her mind I have stolen her life. God, did I ever deserve to hear her sing?! I never should have brought her here- I should have provided her a place to live safe from the assassins of Tejar, somewhere safe in Paris, London, or Berlin, anywhere she wished, anywhere so long that she would be safe from me! 

Christine is not mine to listen to or look at but I will hold the memories of this day, as bittersweet and unsatisfying as they are. Unsatisfying? Oh, yes! Christine is nothing but a body now. A warm body, clad in a simple lavender sundress, naked underneath; but her smiles are not genuine, when she is not smiling her expression is blank, and the worst of it all…her eyes are so empty.

Christine is empty because I've robbed the _spark_ from her!

I jumble the notes on the piano and stand from the bench. Her eyes had been fixed on the far wall, and remained there even as I moved toward her. I take the music sheet away from her. I can't stay in the music room, the air is stifling, I am being strangled by my own lies and all vile acts.

The dread twists my stomach hard; there are angry snakes curling within my body, slithering violently, killing me!

"Ah, Christine…mmm, that's enough music for tonight. I never should have brought you into this room," I said, my voice was terribly strained. I could feel sweat forming on my palms and under the mask. I felt an ice-cold seizing claim over my heart. I felt as if I'd been punched in the stomach; guilty pangs were vicious in their assault. I nearly doubled over as I spoke to her. "Please, let's go to our bedroom. It's getting late anyway, oh…I'll draw you a bath."

I staggered out into the hallway and the girl follows me, quiet as a housecat. Her dainty bare feet pad after me as we make our way up to the third floor, to our bedroom. I close the door behind us, thankful that we had not encountered William or Marcel as we were coming up. They still have no idea of what I have done, and that after tomorrow Christine will be gone.

_Gone, gone, gone forever, tossed to the winds…I've ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me!_

I sit on the edge of the bathtub and turn the faucet; I toss in bath beads and add the salt for bubbles. There had been a time when I dreamed of bathing with a woman; in all my past dreams of women, or Christine alone, I am unmasked. Free and lighthearted as they, uninhibited, untroubled by the beatings and tortures that have marked me throughout my life…

I glanced up; Christine was standing in the doorway staring at me. I stared back at her for a few moments. _Say something to me, Christine! Tease me, try to make me laugh! Say something, please!_

I sighed lightly, Christine didn't move. Of course she didn't.

"Come here, Christine,"

The girl moved forward and stood before me. I stood as well and took her into my arms. I rested my chin on the crown of her head. I was miserable and the most wretched of men. Christine tortures me. I reach behind her and felt along her back until I find the zipper to her dress, then slipped it down.

The dress falls from her body, leaving her naked for me.

There is no stirring in my loins as there had always been when I'd seen her- clothed or not. I realize that it was not her body that I had longed for; it was Christine herself that I love and have waited for my whole life.

Christine is gone now, what stands before me is an empty shell. She is as listless as a dried leaf in autumn.

Stepping over the edge of the tub, I assist her. Thankfully, her balance remains intact. She lays her back against the sloped wall of the tub; her body immersed in the white foam atop the water. The bathroom is scented lightly by her perfume and the bath salt. Her eyes slipped shut for a moment. Even as enslaved to me as she was, Christine was still aware enough to luxuriate in the heat.

Her eyes open, and though her emeralds are cloudy, Christine smiled at me. The false smile that she had shown to me all day.

Sitting beside the tub, I took off my mask and wept in misery.

She remains still and watches as I cry, but she did not reach out to comfort me.

I had not expected that she would.

* * *

Before Christine, sleep had never come to me easily. There were times, even as a child, that I tested myself; I had gone for days without sleep and even to this day I can go for extended periods without rest. 

Since mother had so happily revealed my face to Christine, I haven't slept well. I can't sleep, I refuse it. It allows the mind to wander too far, and leaves the body vulnerable. As I wept before her, I felt grateful that Christine was not lucid enough to see me being so completely weak.

Surely the sight of a weeping corpse would have turned her stomach.

I replaced my mask and assisted Christine from the tub. Again, she was naked before me. Tiny bubbles clung to her soaked skin. I brought a towel around her shoulders and she made no objections when I began to pat her dry. Her feet followed me out of the bathroom and on into the bedroom. Our bedroom.

The guilt pangs returned swiftly, and the room began to spin slightly. I put a hand to my temple and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Christine was beside me, but no comfort at all. "I'm truly sorry for doing this to you," I said. The words sounded muffled coming from behind my mask, but I had to say something to her.

It was a sudden confession, and though only a small, buried part of Christine could hear me, I wanted her to know how I felt. I raised my head and searched her blank eyes for some spark of recognition. I was still little more than a stranger to her. _God, help me when she awakens from this trance._

"I did it because I was angry, because I was afraid of losing you. I just…I should never have doubted you. You loved me once, I saw it in your eyes! It should have been enough, your barest scrap of friendship should have been more than enough, but I couldn't stand the thought of going back to life as it was before I met you…Christine, I'm sorry…I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

How pathetic had I become for this girl? I couldn't listen to myself anymore. Where I once longed for death, I now craved it if only for the permanent reprieve from my guilt. Well. There would be no freedom from guilt in hell, and Christine would not be there to torment me.

It was crushing me, smothering me…

I put my head in my hands and sent her away from me. "Go put on your black nightgown, then come back to bed. It's time for us to sleep."

Christine strides across the room naked and disappeared into her closet. I took several steadying breaths and then went to change my clothes. I had just finished when she came back out. Beautiful, always beautiful. Soon, she will use that beauty against me, destroy me with it.

"Get into bed, I'll be there in a moment."

I took one more deep breath and tried not to think of the horrible morning that was in store for both of us.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm so excited, the next chapter coming up is my favorite!**


	23. Explosion, Destruction, Isolation

**Author's Note: My favorite chapter, yay!**

* * *

Erik's mind stirred behind his closed eyes; the black veil of sleep was lifting slowly, layer after layer of consciousness returning to him. His physical body gained awareness first. He was very warm beneath the sheets; he knew by the softness, by the safe, clean scent surrounding him that he was in his bed. Erik shifted his body and all at once, the memories of the day before came at him with the force of a sledgehammer. 

Golden eyes flew open behind the mask as realization coursed through his brain. _The trance, my wife, **Christine!**_

Instinct alerted him that he was not alone. Erik glanced to his left and found Christine standing at the end of their bed, her grip on the post so tight that her knuckles had gone bone-white.

She was watching him; her eyes were twin flames of emerald fury.

His stomach dropped and his heart jumped into his throat. Erik could not speak, blood and adrenaline pounded through his veins. He sat up and planted one foot on the floor, but he knew by the look in her eyes not to make any sudden moves. She looked murderous.

His wife did not trust him, and now they both knew that she never should have. It was an ugly truth, but true nonetheless. Her body was tense; she was positively vibrating with rage. Erik knew what was coming next, but a small part of him was joyful to see the return of the true Christine- passionate, fiery, alive…

Erik reached out a tentative hand. "Christine-"

"Don't touch me, don't even think my name. I'm leaving, I don't even know why I'm still here," she hissed at him. Christine turned and headed toward the door.

Erik rose from the bed and went after her. Christine spun around to face him, raising her hands defensively, as if to ward off an attack. "What are you doing?" Her voice held a hint of panic that sent a fresh stab of guilt into Erik's stomach.

"Christine, please, let me explain-"

"_Explain?!_ Explain what, Erik? Explain why you made me into your goddamn puppet all day?"

"I- I just-"

"You just what? How could you have done that to me? You knew what you were doing the whole time! You made me pose naked for you like a fucking Playmate centerfold- how could you humiliate me like that? _I trusted you!"_ Her voice had shifted just slightly; deep pain now accompanied her immense anger. "You can't even tell me why, can you?"

Erik was silent.

Christine shook her head and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "I trusted you, Erik. I loved you. You made all that noise about love and protecting me, but that's all it was- noise! You never loved me. And as for protection, I was better off in the desert!" A hysterical laugh broke into her words and she covered her mouth with her hand as her laughter broke into infuriated sobs.

"Christine, no, that's not true, you know I love you," Erik said as he started toward her.

She took a step back and held out her hands defensively. "Don't touch me, don't you come anywhere near me ever again. Love me? You don't even know what love is. I hate you Erik, I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" She screamed as she turned towards the bedroom door.

"Oh, leaving to go back to that golden boy of yours?" Erik demanded suddenly, the betrayal and anger coming back to him. He'd seen that she'd kissed another man, that she'd been planning to leave him.

Christine stopped and turned to face him. "You're talking about Raoul,"

"Yes, Raoul. Your precious Raoul de Chagny! Your first lover, I know all about him-"

"Oh, really? I never told you about that…you've done this to me before, haven't you? _Haven't you?!"_

The room exploded in rage from both sides.

"Yes! And it's a damn good thing I did- how long were you going to keep your secret? You never mentioned anything of your past with him to me, not in Tejar, and not in France. You think I don't know why? You've been leading me on the entire time, tempting me and making me believe that you could come to be a true wife to me!" Erik shouted, anger and frustration tearing him apart inside.

Christine was seething. "I can't believe you think you have the right to do this to me- invade my mind and use my body. I've given you so much- I had to leave _my home_ because those people were coming for you, I've slept with you every night, I've kissed you. I led you on in Tejar _so that I could stay_ _alive _but nothing I did with you here has been a lie!"

"So you admit it! You lied to me, you led me on! You snake, you little spider! I gave you everything I could and still you were planning to leave me for him!"

"I never-"

"Don't feed me more lies, I can't take anymore! I was there, Christine, I saw you kiss him! That goddamn boy, my damn face! I had you, I had everything I've ever wanted!" Erik ranted blindly.

"Erik, for the love of God, _shut up_ _about your face!"_

"What?"

"If I was planning to leave you, did you ever stop to think that it might not be because of how you look? God, everyday with you it's always, 'my face, my corpse face'! You make me sick with your _whining!"_ Christine yelled back at him.

Erik's voice dropped, adopting a cold, sinister tone. "I make you sick? I make you _sick?!_ I wasn't making you sick _that night_, you were panting like a bitch in heat, I had you naked, begging me to take you-"

Color from anger and further humiliation flooded her face. "Shut your mouth, just stop it, you're disgusting,"

Erik stepped closer, advancing on her, fueled by his own anger. "I didn't disgust you that night-"

Christine flew at him, her fists beating at his chest and stomach. Erik tried to restrain her but she struggled against him with the power of a fierce, wild animal, twisting and kicking at him. "You bastard! You stupid, sick son of a bitch, I hate you, let me go!"

"Let you go? Why, so you can go running back to him? Never! You agreed to be my wife, mine!" Erik growled as he backed her up against the wall, trapping her.

Erik felt the sharp tiny bites of her nails on his bare chest. Christine glared at him, breathing hard from their fight. She radiated anger, her face red with the fury over what he'd done and that he'd again managed subdue her physically- she didn't need the reminder that he was stronger than she.

Fiery emeralds bore into his masked eyes. "I'm your wife, not a goddamn sex slave. Did you ever love me or was this all about your lust?" Her voice was so quiet, her body was burning against his…

It was then that Erik snapped.

"Damn you, Christine," he breathed as he raised his mask and claimed her mouth. His kiss was not tender. Erik was rough, demanding her surrender to him. His hands moved from her arms down to her hips; he pulled Christine against him; he wanted her to feel the infuriated arousal of his body, to remind her that he was every bit a man, just as passionate, just as _real_ as her precious Raoul.

Christine resisted Erik, beating at his chest with her freed fists and screaming for him to stop. She felt tears sting her eyes and cheeks as he only pulled her closer, ignoring her protests. Erik kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, then nuzzled just below her ear before moving lower, to her neck. He trailed kisses down until he met the sensitive spot where neck made the gentle slope into shoulder.

He kissed her there, grazed the spot with his teeth.

Christine's protests soon died on her lips as she crossed the threshold from victim to lover. She came at Erik in frenzy, clawing his chest as she bruised his lips with her kiss. Erik pulled at her angrily, bringing them both down to the floor. He forced his lips onto Christine, kissing her harshly; he bit her as his hands roamed the scape of her body. He gripped the neckline of her short nightgown and tore it down the center to expose more and more of her to his hungry eyes.

Christine clawed at Erik, she forced his pants down his hips as she bit him, licked and kissed him, a wild animal of lust and passion. She growled and moaned against his mouth as he explored her. Erik gripped her breasts, possessive, he moved a hand down her body. He touched her, as he had touched her on their ruined night. His hand stroked and explored. Christine was powerless beneath him, writhing as he caressed. Her hips rose against the pressure of his hand, desperate for furious release. Erik's arousal had grown painful as he watched her expression shift back and forth between fury and pleasure.

It was fascinating to him, terrifying, _electrifying._

"Don't do this Erik, stop…oh, God…Erik..." Christine moaned beneath him, even as her body encouraged him, urging him, _more, more, more!_

Erik lifted his hand from her and moved his hips to the cradle of her open thighs. The girl beneath him braced for the assault of his body against hers, tensing, trying to close herself to him. Erik pulled her hair, hard enough to jerk her head back and he forced her to look at him.

"Open for me, Christine,"

Erik gripped her knee and forced her legs apart, leaving her exposed and open to his attack. Christine bit out a short, pained scream once he entered her. Tears slipped from her closed eyes, and she bit into Erik's shoulder as he began thrusting into her body, harder and harder. Erik held her hips as he moved within her, while Christine's hands had come to wrap themselves around his back. Her clawing nails had dug deep furrows into his skin, adding new scars to the old.

She began to move with him, taking heated pleasure from his body. Christine bucked against him, fighting him for dominance and moaning against him. Her breasts brushed against his naked chest, fueling his fire.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. He had wanted to take her gently; he'd had such hope for their first time together but furious emotion had overridden his want for tenderness.

That vision of hope was nothing but a distant dream- their reality was a brutal union, untamed and raw. Erik knew that Christine had been hurt; it was what he'd wanted. Hurt her, make her suffer for giving him glittering happiness only to humiliate him in the end.

_You think you can leave me?! How dare you even entertain the thought?!_

Erik ignored the quiet pleas from the back of his mind that advised him to let Christine go, to let her be free and happy with Raoul. The blackness of his soul was rarely indulged, but he allowed it to reign free in his onslaught against the girl.

_I've earned this! You're mine! My wife! My wife!_

His hips thrust powerfully, pounding his flesh into hers like a savage. He'd tried to keep his eyes closed, but in the last moments of their union, he'd looked down to see Christine's eyes, open, very dark, boring into his. Erik could feel the end coming; Christine lifted her face to his, and touched him with a deep, shattering kiss.

It would be their last.

It seized him, tensing his muscles and surging through his blood. Erik felt his body's shuddering release flood over him, adrenaline and blood surging forcefully. Erik dropped his head to rest over Christine's shoulder, keeping her cheek-to-cheek with him; she was pinned on the floor, spread beneath him and the world.

Erik's body had drained itself of energy, and his mind once again felt blissfully sluggish, a sensation akin to falling into dreams. He was panting heavily, but waited for his breathing to come out even, he waited for the world to come back to him. He could feel Christine struggling beneath him, trying to free herself from the weight of his spent body.

Moving to the side, Erik pulled himself free from his wife. Her feminine chasm had been tight; wonderfully, painfully tight around him, burning hot and so moist. Erik ignored Christine's quiet whimper as they separated and he sat up. He realized that his body was trembling slightly, almost shivering. But he wasn't cold. What was wrong with him?

Erik looked to Christine; she had risen to sit up beside him. She turned away from him, struggling to bring the split front of her nightgown together to hide her breasts. Her hands were shaking. He remembered how Raoul had kissed those hands, how she had kissed his perfect face.

"You owed that to me, Christine."

Erik almost retched- he hated himself, how cruel and ugly he'd become in just the last hour.

_Wasn't it only days ago that we were laughing and happy together, and I would be so thrilled for just a kiss? My God, what's happened to me? I can't do this to you anymore, you must get away from me…!_

Christine turned to him, her eyes searching his, tears shining brightly. Erik suddenly felt overcome with remorse, as tears filled his own eyes. Christine reached out to him. Erik's eyes slipped closed in a strange peaceful pleasure once he felt Christine's hand stroking his features. Her fingertips brushed over his cheekbone, her palm came around to cup his face.

Before Erik could stop himself, he'd turned and pressed his lips to her palm, a soft gentle kiss to mirror the first kiss that he'd received from her, all those wonderful months ago on her shore.

Erik looked into her eyes; Christine's expression was conflicted, torn between longing and an immense, ocean-deep sadness. She touched his face tenderly, her hand soft and caring.

"Erik..."

Christine drew back her hand and slapped him across his face as hard as she could.

Erik heard her footsteps fade away, but he did not move to stop her.

* * *

Erik did not leave the bedroom for several hours, to be sure that Christine had left his home. He knew she was gone, now and forever. Erik had not moved far from his place on the floor. His mask was several feet away, over by the wall where he'd first lifted it to kiss her. 

Erik tried not to think about it just then- there would be years to brood over what he had done to destroy everything. He rose from the floor, pulling up his pants and staggered into the bathroom. He winced at his reflection when he passed the mirror on his way to the shower.

Erik paused and for once he was not so bothered by his face- it was his body that startled him so.

Angry red slashes crossed over his chest and the ridges of his stomach- the deep furrows were courtesy of Christine's polished nail tips. Erik touched one of the slashes that tore into his chest, just above his heart.

In addition to the deep scratches, there were dark kiss bruises on his neck, teeth marks on his right shoulder. Erik noticed that his own lips were slightly swollen; there was a small split in the center of his bottom lip. Christine again, they had kissed with such fervor that it had been almost violent. In fact, it had been violent. Miles away from the tender love that he'd dreamed of with her. Erik stripped and inspected himself.

Blood there, too. Not his.

Erik went into the shower and let the water scald his flesh. He had taken Christine by force. _"Don't do this, Erik, stop…"_ She had begged him to stop, but he'd ignored her and taken her anyway. He'd hurt her, used her without remorse. Erik remembered her scream as he'd sunk himself into her body and he touched the teeth marks on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried, desperately, to let the water burn away the memories of that morning.

The water soaked through his hair, allowing the black locks to cling to his face and neck. He hissed slightly as the water stung the slashes on his chest and back, he watched as his blood mixed with Christine's, blending together to wash down the bath drain.

_Monster, monster…_

He left the shower and wasted no time in dressing himself. He couldn't stand the sight of the evidence that Christine had left on him; he couldn't stand the sight of himself. He took extra care in wearing one of her silk scarves around his neck to hide the bruises of Christine's kiss.

He couldn't look at them.

It made him feel dirty and miserable and strangely foolish as he tied the ends of the red scarf together around his neck. The marks of Christine's possession weren't meant to be covered; he wasn't supposed to feel ashamed for being with his own wife!

_O, but it wasn't intimacy, was it? You didn't seduce Christine; you didn't make love to her. No…Erik, you'll remain here forever, even more miserable than before- for you have not only found love, you have raped the one woman in all the world who has ever shown you kindness, with only the memories and photographs to sustain you as you waste away in this tomb…_

Erik ignored his urge to take a mask and stared at the area on the floor where he'd taken her. In a small way, he was relieved that Christine's blood had not marked the carpet. All visible evidence of their union had been washed away in the shower. The marks and slashes on his body would fade with time, but although Christine had fled the chateau, her presence remained strong.

Erik could still feel her there with him.

His body shuddered again, he had to grip the nearest bedpost for support as pangs wracked throughout his entire frame. His eyes flooded with tears. Traces of Christine were everywhere.

A part of her even inhabited the scarf that he wore. Erik prayed that the scarf would come alive to strangle him; Christine had every right to demand his death.

He could still smell her- that fresh, clean scent of Christine mixed in with her beloved oil perfumes. The closet contained her clothing. Her lotion and cosmetics were in the bathroom; one of her bottles of nail polish was on the end table.

_She was everywhere._

Erik glanced over to his own dresser. His camera was gone.

Fresh panic swept over him as he stormed out of the bedroom. He _needed_ that camera- it contained the only visible proof that, even if only for a short time, before he had destroyed his life, there had been someone who loved him.

Erik searched the other rooms on his floor, frantic and desperate.

Christine wouldn't take that camera, why would she? After all, it was full of pictures that he'd taken of her while she'd been under his complete control- surely she wouldn't want to keep the evidence of her time as his puppet!

He looked to the room of the rose hues that he'd given to Christine on the day that her guests had arrived in his home. The room was clean and so tidy, but for the large picture frame just above the bed- the glass was shattered, and the picture inside…Erik lurched upon recognition.

It was the drawing he'd done in Tejar, Christine had framed it! Erik's surprise was short lived, however, as he stepped closer. The glass had been shattered and the drawing within was torn in half. One half remained trapped inside the jagged shards, while the other half was crumpled on the floor.

How could Erik have expected any less from her? Christine hated him now, and had every reason to wish him dead. "Oh!"

Erik spied the camera on the nightstand beside the bed and went over to check it. What was left of Christine's torn nightgown was on the floor; he thought that was curious, what had she worn to leave the house?

He checked the camera's stored photographs. All were gone- one remained in the device's stored files, but he had not taken it. He worked the buttons, forcing the picture to be shown at full size. Erik cried out and nearly dropped the camera. "Christine, no!"

The image was revealed to him, Christine standing in the center of the room, the image sharp and clear. She was naked, her pale flesh a sharp contrast to the dark bruises that had come from what never should have been. He could see the bruises on her hips; her breasts also appeared abused. Her thighs were smeared with a small amount of blood, and she had the same dark kiss marks on her neck as he did.

Despite his pain and shame, Erik almost had to admire the noble cruelty of Christine.

She had destroyed the only visible proof he had of her, and in its place she'd left her nude, violated image behind as a reminder of the monster he'd become. He gazed at the face staring back at him from the picture. She was cold, distant.

There was a question in her eyes.

"_Why, Erik?"_

* * *

**Christine **

I left Erik on the floor of our bedroom. His mask was somewhere across the room, on the floor by the wall. His pants were down around his knees, and after he'd collapsed on me, he rolled away. He was shaking, but I don't know why. I hadn't started shaking when we were done.

He had sat up and turned away from me. He didn't try to hold me, he didn't say anything of comfort. I stared at him for a few moments, this bizarre man-creature that I'd fallen in love with. How could I understand him? He'd done something to me, he'd somehow gained control over me for a day- I have no idea how he did it.

We were getting better, weren't we? I thought we were both intent on repairing things between us. Erik had allowed me back into our bedroom, we'd made plans for the masquerade, but he hadn't shown up. I remembered declining Raoul's invitation to go see his new apartment in Paris because I wanted to spend some time alone with "my husband".

I remember Erik's face, and that it was just as terrible as if had been when I'd first seen it.

Then, nothing…

I stared at him as he sat beside me, naked and shaking. It had been rough, demanding on both parts. My stomach turned over a little; I wanted Erik to turn around and hold me, I wanted him to tell me that he loved me- I wanted the real Erik to come back to me!

_"You owed that to me, Christine."_

I couldn't believe he could say something so cruel- I still can't. That wasn't the Erik I knew. I touched his face and watched as he closed his eyes like an animal being petted. He had the nerve to kiss my hand after what he'd just done. I hated him- he didn't trust me, he thought I was faithless, but that didn't stop him from getting his satisfaction out of my body. _Son of a bitch!_

I slapped him and left the room, grabbing his camera off the dresser as I went. Why stay here? Why stay in a house where my "husband" can't even trust me when I tell him that I love him? Why stay with him when he's proven how manipulative he can be? I was completely under his spell, he had me dancing to his whim for a full day- and it hadn't been the first time, he'd admitted that he'd done it before.

It wasn't about how I felt anymore- Erik was dangerous, there was no question of leaving him.

No one saw me as I treaded down the stairs leading to the second floor of the chateau. I was grateful when I heard William, Marcel and Sophie chatting downstairs. They knew nothing of what had gone on between Erik and I.

_That bastard, had he hypnotized them too?_

I went down to the rose room on the second floor, feeling cold and dirty as I walked through the hallway, naked beneath my torn nightgown. I could still feel Erik's seed; it was in me and on my thighs, sticky and warm. I was disgusted with myself.

My suitcase, the case with all the clothes I'd taken from my father's island house had been left in the closet. I hadn't thought to bring them up to our bedroom; I hadn't thought I'd ever need them again. My head ached with the anger I had towards Erik. How could he have done that to me?!

I scrolled though Erik's stored photos of me in his camera as I paced the room, deleting them after each viewing. I saw myself wrapped nude in a dark sheet; I saw myself in a lavender dress on the fountain rim in the backyard.

_Did I ever mean anything to you, or was this all about your lust?_

The pictures from only two days ago were the last of the files. I was wearing my white lace nightgown, smiling and posing for him in our bed. I remembered that night. I looked so happy…

I set the timer and let his camera flash one last picture of me- naked and fully displaying the damage he had inflicted on me. Why let Erik see my naked body? Because it would be the last thing he would have to remember of me. Let this be the one remaining image he has to recall whenever I come into his thoughts; let him remember how he'd made me into a plaything when I'd already given him so much of myself.

_You bastard, you deserve to suffer like this for what you did to me!_

Women are cruel, but we first learned our cruelty from men. The student simply surpassed the teacher over time.

I realized then how little of Erik I truly knew. He might find the image of my naked, bruised flesh arousing.

I dressed in my old jeans and another wrinkled t-shirt; I felt as if I was suffocating. I had to get out, away from Erik.

_I'm leaving, I'm leaving..._

* * *

"Christine? Jesus, what the hell happened to you?" 

"Well, good morning to you too, Raoul," I snapped dryly. I didn't need him to tell me I looked like hell; I was able to discern as much judging from the looks I'd received as I had made my way through the city on my way to his new home. "Look, can I come in? My feet are killing me,"

"You didn't walk all the way here from the chateau, did you?" He asked as he took my suitcase from me and set it aside in his own little foyer.

I shrugged, "Well, maybe…"

"Christine, what's going on?" Raoul came closer and touched my cheek gently, turned me to face him. I knew what I looked like- my lip had a small split, my neck had a great kiss bruise and my eyes were red from crying as I'd walked to his new home. I inwardly groaned when I saw his eyes get wide and angry. "What the hell did he do to you? Christine, so help me, Erik's hurt you and I'll-"

I took hold of the hand that was gently probing the bruises on my neck. "Raoul, we've known each other forever. Look into my eyes- Erik didn't hurt me. At least, not in the way you think. He didn't…it wasn't a rape. Please believe me." I implored. It was all too much, I couldn't talk about it yet.

Raoul sighed a little and drew me into his arms. I breathed in his scent- his shirt was clean and fresh, his cologne almost sweet. Raoul was very warm. It felt good to be hugged, touched in a loving way. "What happened?" he asked, his voice was straining to sound calm, I could tell.

Fresh tears were springing to my eyes. "Look…can I just use your shower, please? Also, Raoul I don't want to bother you, but can I stay here until I can find a place to stay?"

He looked honestly surprised. "Christine, go take your shower, you're not going anywhere. And don't think you'll sleep on the couch either, I'll go set up one of the extra rooms for you. You'll stay as long as you need to, why bother looking for some other place to stay at all? Stay here with me."

I was touched by Raoul's offer. He really was a wonderful man. _A man_- when had we grown up? Weren't we still the kids we had always been on the island? "Thank you, Raoul. I really don't want to get in your way, though. I'd rather stay for a day or two and then live on my own-"

Raoul took hold of my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Christine, stay here as long as you need to, all right? For a day or a year, I'm glad to have you. Hell, I'll buy you a house if you need me to. Go have your shower, there's plenty of hot water, but when you get out, I want to know what happened." There was no arguing with him, and I was so tired and I felt so filthy…

I nodded and let him lead me into his bedroom, to his master bath. It was nothing terribly impressive as Raoul had never been one to fuss over décor, but it was clean and felt safe. A shower was never more welcome. The scalding water washed away sweat and the dried, sticky residue of Erik from my thighs. Blood trailed down my legs and swirled down the drain. I took a deep, shuddering breath. _No more tears_, I thought. _Hasn't it been enough for one day?_

_Yes, it's been more than enough_! I washed my hair with Raoul's shampoo and scrubbed with his soap. When I finally emerged, my skin was pink and raw; I smelt like him, clean and freshly sweet. The Christine in the mirror looked much refreshed from the shower, but I was confused and stressed. Was this yet another new beginning? How many more twists and turns were in store for me?

_Another day, another new life_

I left the bathroom and crossed Raoul's bedroom, out into the living room. The scent of something fantastic greeted me. My stomach roared. "Raoul?"

"In here," he called back.

I stepped into the kitchen and found him at the stove. I smiled, "Raoul, it's been forever since I've had your bisque!"

He smiled back at me and shrugged in his usual nonchalant way. "Well, I figured you've had a rough day and this might do the trick to help,"

I was so touched, and I stood silent, just watching him. We had grown up together on the island- Raoul's family is very wealthy, but his parents chose to let their sons grow up on the island to keep them from growing into spoiled, self-absorbed men. Philippe being almost ten years older than Raoul, he had left home to learn how to handle the business from their father, though he often returned for holidays and long weekends.

It's been near a year ago that Raoul and I had slept together. We had dated for several weeks after my father's death. He had been reluctant to start a relationship with me, even though he'd often told me I was beautiful and would make a man very happy someday.

Looking back, I think I'd just been starved for comfort and had overreacted on my attraction to him. Raoul has always been handsome- both he and his brother have been blessed with good looks. Tall and strong, Raoul had it all. Thick curls of blonde hair and soft brown eyes, slightly tanned skin; it didn't hurt that he had a wonderful sense of humor and was truly very kind.

He had so much going for him- everything, really. Great personality, handsome, he came from a wonderful family. I'd always thought he had the potential of being the perfect lover, husband and father sometime in the future, and last year I'd given him my virginity.

It wasn't how I'd imagined that it would be- there were no rose petals falling from heaven as he'd brought me into womanhood. No choir of angels, no harp music. I was so stupid then, my mind blinded to reality from watching romantic movies and reading too many romance novels. It had hurt, and we had both been tense. Raoul had tried to make it good for me, but I had been so embarrassed and uncomfortable, which had only made him nervous…what a disaster it had been! It seemed like in the morning we'd both decided to go back to being just friends. I'm happy that we were able to put it more or less behind us.

I knew the subject of our past would come up when he made me explain about Erik. Erik…God, what am I going to do? I felt the sudden sting of tears behind my eyes.

"Christine,"

I hadn't noticed Raoul come to stand before me. His arms came around me, and I couldn't take it. I cried into his chest, strong and hot beneath my cheek.

"It'll be all right, Christine. I promise."


	24. A Friend In Need

**Christine**

Raoul served me a bowl of his famous lobster bisque. It had been his specialty, a great treat in the harsh winters back on the island. He was a typical guy- he could make basic dishes like eggs and sandwiches, but for whatever reason, he excelled at the heavy cream stew and no one knew why. Not that I was complaining.

I had a second bowl just to stall for time.

He sat across from me, eating his own bowl. Raoul knew me- I was taking too long to eat and I wasn't looking in his eyes. "All right, that's it," he said suddenly. "I can't take the suspense anymore,"

"What?"

Raoul leaned across the table and took my bowl. He set it aside and looked me square in the eye. "Christine. You didn't come here for the shower and soup. I want to know why you came here with your suitcase, looking like someone just threw you over the wall of a prison yard,"

"Oh, nice imagery," I said, rolling my eyes.

His expression became imploring, and he took my hands into his. "Come on, Christine. Talk to me."

I sighed, defeated. "You were never just going to let me enjoy my lunch and leave it at that, were you?"

"No. Now stop stalling. Tell me what _he_ did to you." His voice took on a hard, violent edge that I had never heard before. It twisted my insides, and I could feel the emotions sweeling inside my chest, the tears prickling in my eyes.

I put my head in my hands and felt my throat start to constrict. "I…oh, Raoul…"

The story burst from me like a river.

Inside of ten minutes, my wonderful Raoul knew everything. He knew about Tejar, how I was given to this mysterious man as a slave; I told him about how Erik offered me his ring out of protection, how he had planned our escape. Raoul learned about the assassin that followed Erik and I to the island and how Erik and I came to be in Paris.

"…and I don't know how he did it, but he hypnotized me or something. It was like being drawn into a dream, my mind was frozen. He told me that he did it because he thought I was planning to leave with you- he saw me kiss you at the masquerade, I think he just snapped. Erik is…he's unstable and dangerous, but he was never like that before. He thought I was going to abandon him..."

Raoul, for his part, had listened to my story and only made a few astonished comments all throughout the tale. "Christine, it doesn't matter what he thought. Did you try to explain that we were just playing?"

"I tried, but Erik can't understand that kind of affection. Don't you get it, Raoul? He's never had a friend. He doesn't know the difference between one love and another. He's never had anyone who's treated him with a touch of decency. I was it, Raoul. He thought I betrayed him with you because he knows about our past," I cried.

Raoul rose up from the table and returned to me with some tissues. "Why on earth did you tell him about us? I thought he was looking at me kind of strangely,"

"That's just it, I didn't tell him! He did it to me before, he got me to tell him about you- he knows that you were the first…"

Raoul blushed a little at the mention of our intimate past. "He knows about that? Oh, great." He muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"He…this whole thing is too big. I love him, Raoul. Erik's a monster for doing this to me, I hate him but I love him. God, I feel like my head is going to implode from all this pressure," I muttered as I rubbed my temples.

"I don't know what to say, Christine. I've never dealt with this before- I don't think anyone has. Listen to yourself! Kidnappings, forced marriage, desert assassins…Erik's so deformed he looks dead and you spent months with him but never saw his face until you were about to fu- ah, make love. Sorry," he muttered, off my look. "Meanwhile, he knows you slept with me and at the first hint, he hypnotized you to force you to stay with him…son of a bitch, _I'm going to kill him."_ Raoul finished with a growl.

I rubbed my face and couldn't help laughing bitterly. "You always were articulate."

"And you always had the greatest stories to tell, how strange that you're wrapped up in a real drama." He remarked tiredly. "Well. You're out of the trance, you confronted him about it, took everything that belongs to you and left him. It's over, Christine. You can stay with me for as long as you want; like I said earlier, I'm happy to have you. Anything you need, Christine."

I sighed heavily.

* * *

After telling everything to Raoul, I had been worried that he would treat me like a crazy person, or even worse, a liar. He did neither. Whether Raoul believed me or not, he knew I was hurting and that I couldn't go back to Erik. He took it upon himself to be the ear to my words and the shoulder to my tears. 

Raoul told me not to blame myself for what Erik had done, but in a small way I did. Maybe if I hadn't led Erik on for so long, if I hadn't pushed him for sex, none of this would have happened.

"That's ridiculous- Christine, you were married to him. I mean, not officially or anything, but to you two, you were married. You loved him, all you were trying to do was get some from your husband-"

I put my hand up, "Could you please not call it that?"

He rolled his eyes. "What would you like me to call it? Fucking? Making love? Or, oh, how about we call it something really delicate like _'exercising your_ _marital rights'_, or _'performing your wifely duties'_? Didn't they used to say something like 'Lie back and think of England'? Well, France, in our case. Grow up, Christine. This isn't a romance novel. We're all adults here; if you're mature enough to do it, you're mature enough to call it what it is."

I hated it when Raoul was so blunt and always so right!

He flopped onto the couch across from me. "Semantics aside, it wasn't your fault. The way you tell it, you had to lead him on for a little while when you were in…where was it?"

"Tejar."

"Right, while you were in Tejar. So maybe you led him on a little while you were out there, but it sounds like you didn't so much lead him on while you were both in Paris as much as you…encouraged him, I guess. Yeah, encouraged- you encouraged him to be a man and tap that ass, not take complete control."

My jaw dropped. " 'Be a man and tap that ass'? Jesus, Raoul! Is that what you told all of your friends the day after we were together?"

He glanced over. "No. I never told them about that, I just told them we broke up,"

"Why?"

He laughed and crossed his legs, glanced out the window to his view of the city. "I love this assumption you girls have that all men are evil, and then you seem so surprised when you find out we're not all bastards. I didn't tell them because it wasn't their business. Even if it was only that one time, it was special to me."

We had never spoken of it after the fact; it was strange to speak of it now, under the circumstances. "But, how was it special for you? I mean…"

He looked over, his cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment. He cleared his throat. "I know, it wasn't that great for me either."

"Thanks,"

"Well, you asked. I mean, you were tense and that made me nervous. I know I hurt you, and even though I wasn't trying to, I also couldn't stop it. It was better for us to just be friends. Christine? Do you ever think about us?"

"I came here to hide from my crazed husband and you want to rehash our disaster of a relationship?" I asked with a sad laugh as I rubbed my face.

Raoul shrugged and came to the recliner chair where I was sitting. He slid in and moved me so that I sat on his lap. He touched my hair and put an arm around my waist. "Come on, Christine, it wasn't a total disaster. It was kind of nice to have my best friend as a girlfriend. I always thought you were wonderful- you have a great personality, fantastic sense of humor. You've always been beautiful too. We just know each other too well, you know? Sleeping together was a mistake because we loved each other, but we weren't in love."

I curled against him and felt the salty sting of fresh tears under my eyelids. "I'm in love with Erik,"

"I know you are. I could see it in your eyes when I first saw you with him at the chateau. It was written all over your face, and I could see it in his eyes too, even though I only saw him once or twice. God, people in love make me sick, no offense." He said, trying to get a laugh.

I sighed, "None taken. I'm making myself sick over this,"

Raoul was silent for a time before speaking. "Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"When you and Erik were together this morning, did he…use anything?"

I had already thought of this, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing when I told Raoul. "No, of course we weren't thinking clearly at the time. This wasn't something we'd planned on doing, it just...nevermind. Don't worry, Raoul. I'll myself get taken care of."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "It'll be fine. I just want this whole mess to be over and done with…"

I could feel the deep vibration of laughter in his chest. "Well, baby, I have the cure right here," he said, and held up his TV remote.

"What?"

"Distraction. You and me are going to watch TV and movies- nothing romantic, of course. We're going to play videogames, we'll go out to eat, we'll go to clubs and concerts, we'll take a trip to wherever you want. Then, when we come back, Erik will be out of your system and you can start working for the family business if you want."

"You want me to work for you?" I asked, surprised.

Raoul shrugged, "Yeah. We have an art department; I think you'll fit right in there. You know, interior decoration, graphic design, commission painters, people that construct the miniatures for our architecture presentations…anything you could want to do."

I smiled. Raoul had a way of opening sunny doors into rooms of darkness. "That's what I want to see, Christine! Come on, smile for me! Be happy, you have a place to stay for as long as you need it, we'll take a trip and when we come back, you'll have a job waiting for you. What more could you want?"

'_Erik!'_

My smile was false- Erik was right, I am a liar. It killed me to know he had been right all along. "Nothing, Raoul."

* * *

Raoul was right, wonderful as always. He succeeded in distracting me during the days- television, films, videogames, sightseeing, car rides, restaurants, night clubs…Paris is a fantastic place to lose yourself, but Raoul could not protect me at night. 

Distract me as much as he could while we were awake, but we always returned back to his apartment when it was time to turn in. Only there, on an unfamiliar bed, did Erik return to me. I had taken all of my old clothes with me, I didn't want anything that Erik had given to me but in doing so, I had forgotten to take off his ring.

It's still there on my left hand, gleaming in the light coming in from the window. Raoul is next door, probably exhausted. He'll sleep for twelve hours after everything we've done tonight. We saw a movie, he took me to dinner and then we danced for the rest of the night at a club. I had a wonderful time with him, I can't deny that. The ache in my heart, that stabbing ache named Erik, remained just under the surface. But with the distraction gone, all thoughts of him came down on me like the falling sky.

I wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking of me. Of course, he had to be thinking of me- I was his wife, wasn't I? I'd loved the attention he paid me. I was the goddess, the temptress and muse. Erik made me drunk with the power I had over him.

_'What is he doing right now? Music? Painting? Could he be staring at that last, brutal image of me that I'd left him with?'_

I didn't want to think about Erik all alone in that house of his. What could he tell William, Marcel and Sophie? I know that he won't tell them the truth about what he did to me. Giselle is meant to return soon- God, that woman! She'll probably berate Erik, lock him in the attic and throw a party now that the whore Christine has finally left the house.

_Bitch!_

Tears escaped from the corner of my eyes. It's only been a few bare days since I left him. Raoul has already made plans for us to go to Rome at the end of the month, three weeks from now. In Raoul's mind, Erik would be completely out of my system by the time we came back. Raoul's never been in love, he doesn't understand.

I sighed.

I tried to sleep, but Erik's ring shined at me, the constant reminder that I had let myself fall in love with a wonderful monster of a man.

* * *

**Raoul**

I hate Erik. Not because he's ugly, not because he's strange. Plain and simple, I hate Erik for how horribly unhappy he's made Christine. What a selfish, perverted bastard he is! He had the crown jewel of women- Christine!- then he threw it all away, and for what? So that he could use her as a model for some demented photo session? It doesn't make any sense! How could he think that she would be unfaithful to him? She kissed me at the masquerade party, but it didn't mean that we were planning to run away together!

If Erik thought that I was planning on stealing her, why did he punish Christine? Because she's smaller and weaker than he is- a man that intimidates women is pathetic, hardly a man at all.

Christine had said that Erik had done something to her that made her more or less obey him without question. I'm convinced that he drugged her. He'd made her into a slave for a day, made her strip for him, pose for him and only God knows what else.

_Bastard, son of a bitch._

My best friend, the only girl I've ever truly loved, and this is what Erik has done to her!

When Christine told me, I'd been ready to march straight up to his attic and beat the life out of him- Christine stopped me then. She told me that Erik had killed before, and because he was so very jealous of me, he wouldn't hesitate to kill again, especially someone he thought of as a rival.

I wasn't comforted by the thought that Christine had known he was a killer and still went along with him, but I didn't bring it up. She is going through hell right now, I can see it in her eyes. My poor, my beautiful Christine is dying inside, and I can't do anything to help.

I can hear her crying now, through the wall between our bedrooms. She's cried every night since coming here.

I can't take this anymore.

"Raoul, what are you doing?"

I'd just stepped through her doorway. Christine is wiping at her face, as if she could hope to hide her emotions from me. Hadn't we known each other all of our lives? Even if I hadn't known her for years, I wouldn't be nearly so oblivious.

There was a little light from the city coming in through the window, I could see her face. She pulled at my heart, but I wasn't deterred. I knew that Christine felt alone and abandoned, she needed comfort. I ignored her question and reached down to scoop her out of bed.

"Raoul, let me go, what are you thinking?"

I ignored her as she wriggled in my grip, and lightly pinched her waist- she jerked and started laughing against me. How often had I tickled her when we were younger, and she would go crazy from it? _Good, at least Erik hasn't completely killed_ _her spirit!_

We had been shopping a few times; Christine couldn't live out of her suitcase forever. She was wearing a new night set- a camisole and panties. Black, with lace on the edges. Nice.

I didn't answer her even as she squirmed and demanded to know what I was thinking. To be honest, I wasn't sure. I just wanted her to be happy again. I wanted the old Christine back with me- this sad stranger was becoming tiresome.

We crossed into my room and I dropped her on my bed. She rolled onto her side and looked up at me. Her eyes had gone wide and the laughter had come to a quick stop. "Raoul?"

I didn't like the way she said my name, she sounded almost afraid. It was Erik that had put that fear into her voice, the bastard. "Move over," I said as I slid into bed beside her. Christine rolled her eyes and made space for me. Had she really thought I wanted to hurt her in that way? We had slept in the same bed several times before, and tonight was no different, although in some ways it was.

She laid back and I spread my hand across her flat stomach and tapped the jewel in her pierced navel. The marks on her neck were still there, as were the marks on her breasts. The bruises to her hips were still visible. Christine had tried to hide herself from me, but I had caught a few glimpses to recognize how she'd received them. Simply, the only way she could have gotten bruises there, in those shapes, was by Erik holding her down, gripping her hard enough to cause damage while he took her. I didn't want to think too much about it, but I couldn't push away the sudden image in my mind of Erik raping Christine like a predator in some dark alley.

_Bastard- no one hurts my friends and gets away with it, who the hell does he think he is?!_

I curled an arm around her waist and pulled her in close, close enough that I could say what I had to say.

"Christine, you can't fool me and you know it. I could take you to every club in Paris and we could dance every night till the end of the year and even though now you smile and laugh and joke with me, I've heard you crying every night these past weeks. I want you to forget Erik and all that horror he put you through. Erik is beneath you, Christine. He's nothing."

She didn't answer me, but I hadn't expected her to.

I only wanted her to seriously think about what I said.

* * *

**Author's Note: This chapter is meant to show you all that Raoul is a good guy, so no bashings!**


	25. When In Rome

**Erik **

As Christine has been gallivanting about Paris with her precious Raoul de Chagny, I have dutifully remained in the house. Go, let her have her life- doesn't she deserve genuine happiness after these months of pretending with me? Such a talented actress she's been, so attentive to detail, she so seamlessly slipped into her role that I had been played for a fool yet again.

I must have been blinded by my hopes not to have noticed some little giveaway of her disgust with me. I hurt her- no matter what she did or didn't do, I never should have hurt her in any way. The truth that I had hurt her, so easily and without hesitation, shows what a monster I am. I hurt her, I forced her. Monster, monster, monster...

I'm so tired, but I cannot sleep, and yet I cannot wake up. Can't I just stay here and hold Christine's pillow, pretending that it's her, breathing in her fading scent and dream of happier times?

There is nothing left for me any longer…I have truly become the living ghost I've always feared that Fate had intended for me. I've dismissed the servants with generous severance checks- I could not have them bother me about Christine's whereabouts, I didn't even want to hear her name spoken out loud. I put on a mask for the last time and let them all go, hiding behind an icy persona- a far cry from the true coward that I am.

Goodbye Marcel, Sophie and William. Goodbye gardeners and Gaston, our wonderful cook.

The Latour chateau will again become overrun by weeds and ivy vines, algae will cover the pool and fountains, birds will roost on the statues; inside, dust will settle over the furniture, the houseplants will wither and the food will rot. The house will fall dormant and I will fade away. Perhaps it will take a year or even longer for the neighbors to become curious enough to investigate; inside they will find my remains here in the master bedroom, my corpse clutching a moth-eaten pillow that had once been scented with rose perfume and the indefinable scent of woman.

_My God I am melodramatic…!_

I can't write or play music, I can't paint or sketch any new designs, I can do nothing but stare at the digital image of her abused naked body as I lay here in the dark. Did my mother instruct her in the ways of cruelty somehow behind my back, or had Christine always been so secretly vicious?

I should not consider her motivations- she was just a girl who had made me believe…

Believe what? That true love comes for everyone? My mother hates me- my mother! She gave me life, my own flesh and blood...how could I have expected that lively young vision to have loved me? It was an act put on for what I could give her, that has to be the only reason she stayed- I am hideous, dangerous, beyond human recognition and forgiveness!

Ys, she stayed for what I could give her, and I could have given her anything. Designer clothes, beautiful jewelry, access to the most exclusive clubs and spas of the Paris elite…even the simple things such as her university education and this grand house…

The sacrifice was too much, I suppose. Raoul proved too great a handsome temptation and she'd given in to him. I imagine that they are back on their island now, or perhaps not; Raoul is of the de Chagny family, and I know that he could have easily swept her off to some tropical paradise where they could spend the rest of their days making love on white shores and laughing about the destroyed monster wasting away in Paris. The thought of his hands on her skin eats me alive, she said that she loved me!

_This line of thinking is truly macabre…_

I took her mind from her, forced her to dance and pose for me. There is no excuse for what I've done to damage that poor, beautiful girl. She trusted me, once. She put her full faith in me to bring her home, to save her life.

She betrayed me…I could have killed her, I could have _killed her…_

What I did was worse, for she may never trust again. I've taken her innocence, she will look at the world through different eyes now because of what I'd done to her in my blind anger and destruction. I'd never before felt so driven to be cruel, so sexually violent.

_Do not worry, hell awaits, and that punishment will be more fitting than the torment you inflict on yourself._

I'd not left the house in over a week, there was no need. Staring at the image that Christine had left behind and brooding has been all that I've accomplished. I sat up and stretched before going into the bathroom to prepare for the day. I had to wonder why I bothered; it wasn't as if I had anything planned. I heard a car outside and like a fool I tripped over myself in the rush to get to the window.

_Christine! You've come back to me, please, I love you!_ _I'll be your slave and give you everything..._

Disappointment slapped me in the face as I watched my mother step out from a taxi in the front drive. My stomach twisted and my entire body wracked with pain. Not Christine, but Giselle. Christine is not coming back, but Giselle will stay here to humiliate me for as long as she wants. I groaned as I watched her disappear into the front of the house.

_Christ, I have to deal with her now? God, when does it end?!_

My madness broke and I returned to myself as her shrieks rang throughout the chateau.

"Erik! Erik, come here right now!" She yells. I couldn't help but feel curious, she never seeks me out.

I left the bedroom and went downstairs, following her shouts to her bedroom. I find her inside, quickly shoving mementos into a different suitcase than the one she had taken with her on the ski trip.

"Yes, mother?" I asked. I'd spent many days crying and ranting; my voice was scratched and raw. Even my one beauty was denied to me.

She turned and started. "Jesus, Erik! Could you give a warning if you want to roam the house while you're not wearing a mask? Suppose someone had seen you! Where are the servants, anyway?"

I hadn't bothered with a mask for several days- my face didn't feel as raw from rubbing against the inside of the porcelain and leather, but that small improvement in my looks meant nothing to her. I suddenly felt so tired, and leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom.

"What's the matter, Giselle? I would think you'd be used to my face by now…" I replied lazily.

It occured to me that it was because of her interference that Christine and I had been led down this chaotic road- but no. It was not Giselle that had shoved Christine onto the floor and left the house for days. It was not Giselle that had forced Christine from the master bedroom, and it was not Giselle that had destroyed everything I've ever dreamed of.

Giselle only opened a door- the blame was all mine. The blame, the shame, the guilt. It was all mine.

She was looking at me strangely, staring intently.

"What is it? Are you all right?"

My question snapped her out of her distraction. "Oh, I was just…it's strange to watch you speak. That might sound strange, but after so many years of seeing the masks it's just odd to see you with a moving mouth, if you know what I mean. Forget I said anything, it doesn't matter," she dismissed it with a quick wave of her hand.

I shrugged. "Whatever you say. Yes, I have a mouth and eyes. This face is mine and always will be. Well, I never cared for anything ordinary. Why are you packing?" I asked as I watched her stash jewelry and framed photographs into her case.

"I met a man on the ski trip, Erik. An American, he's taking me to Texas!" Giselle gushed. Her bubbly happiness was unusual to me. I can't recall a time that she'd ever been light of heart in my presence.

She was leaving. That was a nice bit of news for a change. "Texas? I assume he must be rich."

"Of course! You didn't think I'd waste my time on a blue-collar man, did you? He has an oil company, we're getting married!" She cried out with a flip of her luxurious hair.

"Congratulations, Giselle. I want you to be happy." I said lowly. It was the truth; I did love my mother, I want her to have the happiness that I never will. I've been the cause of so much disappointment and pain to her, it's only fair.

"Speaking of marriage, where's the little lady?" She asked with dripping disdain.

I winced, and felt my stomach clench at the mere mention of _her_. I took a breath. "She's left me, over a week ago now. Nothing you weren't expecting or hoping for, I'm sure, but I'd rather not talk about it. Tell me more about your ski trip," I suggested tightly.

She nodded, understanding the edge in my voice and not taking any chances. Giselle began to chatter on about the shopping, the skiing and the lodge where she'd stayed before she went on to tell me of the man who was to become the stepfather I was sure never to meet.

I pretended to listen, and even tossed in a few comments to add to my pretense of interest.

_She's so happy...I want her to be happy..._

She was smiling and radiating joy, and I could even see a touch of adoration for this man thrown into the mix of her emotions. Perhaps marriage was a hasty step, but it seemed she truly cared for him, whoever the hell he was. But who am I to criticize? I did offer Christine my ring within hours of knowing her, and even then it was no love match, it was a step taken for her survival.

On presenting me with a wallet photo of the man, I felt mildly surprised that he had a kind look to him. Giselle explained to me that her new man had two daughters from his first marriage- he was a widower- and had several charitable projects in the works, all of which he could easily afford thanks to his extreme wealth earned in the Texas oil industry.

This all translated to me that Giselle was leaving France to be a part of this new family in America, where she could spend her days being beautiful in the Gulf of Mexico. She loved this man already, and if he did not love her, why would he ask for her hand? Surely they were not under the pressure that Christine and I had been…

As if in a sleepwalking trance, I helped Giselle pack her bags and waited patiently out front with her for the limo sent by her new fiancé that would take her to the airport, and out of Paris. Once we saw the limousine begin to ascend the driveway, I stepped inside. My face was still naked. It wouldn't do to scare off the driver.

Giselle surprised me when she touched my hand to say goodbye, but we did not apologize for how we'd hurt each other throughout all our years together. I watched as the twin red tail lights of the hired car disappeared back down the drive.

_Goodbye, Giselle, mother..._

I had always loved her more than I'd hated her. She had hated me- it was no secret, but I could understand. She had carried me within her body for nine months in this grand house, so happy and in love with my father. It was only two months before my arrival that he had died in an auto accident, and she had pinned such hope and love onto her unborn son.

How disappointed and crushed could she have been upon looking at me, the only living remnant of her beloved?

It occurred to me that I might have very well impregnated Christine on our last day together. Not that I would know- even if we had created a life between us, I know that she would detest it instantly, and more than likely have it aborted. Surely she and the boy would never agree to raise my child as their own!

My child…no progeny of mine should ever see the light of day. Terrible pain and disappointment runs in my family, I wouldn't dream to curse the world with another like myself.

* * *

"Come on, Christine, you're going to have to be faster than that!" Raoul called back to her. He had launched ahead of her down the street on the motorcycle he'd rented. He paused and turned to look back as Christine made her way after him. 

She glared at him a little. "Hey, not all of us are meant to compete in the X-games," she cried back to him as she adjusted her helmet. Raoul shrugged and went forward, slower this time, to allow Christine to stay close. The last thing either of them needed was to get separated in a foreign city where neither of them spoke the language.

Raoul noticed that as the minutes passed by, Christine's handling grew more confident and soon she had overtaken him in the street, even if only by a few feet. He smiled behind his own helmet; she had seemed more at ease since they'd left Paris and that made him very happy. He had no designs on her himsel, but Raoul wanted Erik out of her heart completely so that she might be more receptive to other men in the future. He was her friend, and only wanted her to be happy again. She did deserve it.

Together they rode around the city, gaining a slight familiarity of the great Italian stronghold. After a great while, Raoul signaled for her to pull over. She parked her cycle beside his in an alley near the hotel where Raoul had booked them into a suite, and they pulled off their helmets to reveal hot, sweaty faces. "I think I could use a break," Raoul panted. "How about you?"

Christine nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Definitely. I didn't think it would be so hot,"

"Well, that's Rome for you. It'll be hot for several days, then it'll rain for a few, and then it will be nice and cold. I think we're in for a swift autumn. If we want to use that pool at the hotel, we'd better do it soon," Raoul said as he removed his protective motorcycle leather. "Let's grab a bite to eat, sound good?"

Christine stripped her own jacket and fanned her face with the tour guide they'd brought along. "Sounds great, so long as a cold drink is involved,"

Raoul took the guide from her. "Don't wave that thing around, why don't you just announce that we're tourists?"

Christine raised her brow in a challenge. "Well, we are, aren't we? I can't speak a word of Italian, and neither can you. I feel like the Romans know we're foreigners before we even open our mouths."

"Don't worry about that, just do whatever they do. You know, _'When in_ _Rome…'_ Anyway, learning the culture is supposed to be part of the adventure." Raoul said flippantly as he looped his arm through hers and they started walking down the street.

"I'm always up for adventure,"Christine smiled and tried not to think about the ring that remained on her finger.

* * *

Raoul splashed at her and Christine squealed as the cold spray hit her. "Raoul, cut it out!"

"I can't help it, you take forever to get in the water, like you don't know how to swim all of a sudden!" He teased. Christine remained on the steps of the pool, clutching the rail. She shivered from the cool drops that landed on her and glared at him mockingly.

"Not all of us like to jump in cannonball style, some people like to get used to the water first!"

Raoul rolled his eyes and surged forward to grab her wrists. He ignored Christine as she shrieked in laughter and tried to get away from him. "No, Raoul! Don't you dare dunk me under!"

"Who said anything about dunking you?" He asked, all innocence, as he pulled her into the water, up to her shoulders. "We're on vacation, loosen up!"

Christine laughed and pushed against him, "Let go of my wrists! You'll mess up my ink!"

Raoul let go of her and raised his eyebrows. "They're tattoos, Christine. They can't get smeared or wash off,"

Christine held up her wrist and examined the small tattoo, newly acquired in a fit of rebellion. Her father had detested tattooed women, he'd even been against her navel piercing. Upon landing in Rome, Christine had felt a deep urge for reinvention- if she was to embark on yet another new life, she wanted to make changes in her appearance.

The tattoo was not such a grand statement- it was small, for one thing, and rather than full color, she had opted instead for a simple black design of a flying dove. She equated herself to the bird: peaceful, gentle, free…she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the tattoo.

"How does it feel?" Raoul asked as he watched her.

Christine shrugged, "Still a little tender, but it's more itchy than anything else. What about yours?"

When Christine had announced that she wanted a tattoo earlier in the week, Raoul in his usual style had taken it as a challenge. Not only had he paid for hers, but he'd gotten one for himself, a black animal design like hers, but much larger and placed high on his chest, just over his heart. He'd chosen a male African lion, giving credence to Christine's claim that he was born a "lion-hearted" man.

Raoul shrugged. "The itching is driving me crazy, but I've just tried to ignore it. Not so easy when I'm trying to sleep, but other than that it's fine."

Christine nodded. "Me too, it doesn't bother me much during the day, but when you're trying to fall asleep it's the worst! I'm sure yours is much worse than mine though, since it's so much larger. No worries, I'll put cream on yours later- I think we both could use some, I'm afraid I'll end up scratching mine right off!"

Raoul smiled. "Thanks Christine, I appreciate it."

"The least I could do after all you've done for me," Christine said, making the first mention of it in days.

Raoul mounted the steps of the pool and steadied her as she followed him to the patio table. He retrieved her towel and wrapped it over her shoulders. "I was planning to ask you how you were getting on," he said, hinting to his curiosity. She didn't give him enough credit; Raoul was more perceptive than most would think.

He could see through Christine's sudden rebellion and her more mature choices in both her dress and cosmetics. It wasn't usually in Raoul's habit to pay much attention to the junk that girls put on their faces, but lately Christine had worn it so heavy on her eyes and lips that he'd have to be blind not to have noticed the change in her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but if pressed he'd have to say that she looked like a vamp; either a vamp or a burlesque dancer.

Heavy, deeply shadowed eyes paired with blood-red lips and the tight, low-cut clothes she'd bought for herself had earned her more than a handful of interested stares and dance offers while they'd spent time in nightclubs, both in Paris and the few they'd visited in Rome.

Granted, she wasn't actually doing anything promiscuous, Raoul figured that she just wanted attention- some weird female need for proof that she was desirable.

He wondered if his idea had worked, if Erik was gone from her thoughts yet.

Christine shrugged as they left the hotel pool and went inside to return to their suite. Her voice was quiet. "Some days are easier than others, you know? I'm still not sure about anything. I keep daydreaming that if I could approach him after we've both had enough time to calm down, maybe we could work things out…I don't know…"

"Is that why you've held onto the ring all this time?" Raoul asked her.

Christine glanced down at her left hand, which contained not only Erik's ring, but also her new tattoo. Raoul unlocked the door to their room and he followed her inside. "Well, I left the house that day in a hurry, I didn't even think about the ring, I forgot I was wearing it. I've been thinking that maybe when we get back home I should return it to him."

Raoul tossed his towel over a chair and began to strip off his wet swim trunks. He was never a modest person, and as they'd been so familiar all their lives, he felt no need to change his clothes in the bathroom.

Besides, his body was nothing that she had not seen before, so why bother to hide?

Christine didn't mind Raoul's male nonchalance, in fact she'd come to embrace his outlook and she proceeded to strip off her own suit on the other side of the room. She'd never felt too conscious of her body, and didn't mind much if Raoul's eyes strayed towards her on occasion- he was only human, a man, and was bound to stare at exposed breasts wherever he could find them. Likewise, Christine's eyes were guilty of the occasional "measuring".

Though they were naked, with nothing to block one's view of the other, nothing had ever come of it. Raoul, in fact had not even made mention of their strange arrangement until that very night. He stepped into a pair of boxer briefs and then pulled on a pair of lightweight cotton pants, his standard sleeping attire.

He turned and watched as Christine sorted through her suitcase for a nightset. "Your bruises are gone," he said as he leaned back against the desk, watching her closely. Yes, Erik's marks had finally faded from her skin, returning her back to her remarkably pale self once again. Raoul liked that- it wasn't right for her skin to have been so abused.

She turned, "Hmm? Sorry, what did you say?"

"Oh, I just noticed that the, ah, the bruises are finally gone. Not a trace left on your hips or your neck or your breasts. I'm glad to see them gone now," Raoul said.

Christine glanced down to her chest and cupped her breasts to inspect them herself. Raoul swallowed and looked away- it wouldn't do to get excited by watching her touch herself. _Think about the World Cup, think about Ms. Giry, think about museums…all right, crisis averted_, he thought to himself. Once he regained control over his young libido, Raoul turned back to her and sighed with relief once he saw that Christine was fully clothed again.

She slid into bed they'd shared for the whole of the trip and Raoul followed her under the sheets.

"I guess I can't convince you to just mail the ring back to him without a note," he said suggestively.

Christine shook her head. "I don't want to be so cold. This is personal. Besides, if I mailed it that would be no guarantee that the ring would make its way back home. This is an heirloom to his family, I can't risk losing it."

Raoul reached for her hand and took a closer look at the braided band of gold. "It is a nice ring, and I understand what you're saying, but if you went to see Erik, could you trust him not to hurt you again?"

"It will hurt to see him, I can't deny that. I still love him- the man he was before, not the monster he was to me in those last few days…it will hurt to see him again, but I can't go on wearing his ring, it makes it too hard to move on. It's like a constant reminder on my hand, you know?"

Raoul nodded. "Yeah, I understand. When you go see him, do you want me to go with you?"

Christine paused. "I'd like you to drive me, but I don't want Erik to see you with me. It would only reinforce his belief that I left him for you,"

Raoul chuckled, "In a way, you did. You're here with me, aren't you?"

Christine laughed back and shoved his chest lightly. "You just love to be right, don't you?"

"Naturally, I'm a man."

"And I'm a woman, so the same could be said about me. What do women want?"

"I know the answer to that," Raoul said confidently, "Everything!"

Christine laughed. "I can't argue with that!"

"I thought not. Get some sleep Christine, tomorrow night we're flying home. The sooner you give the ring back, the better. It's time to move on," Raoul said, with the same level of confidence as before.

Christine nodded, "You're right, Raoul. You're almost always right."


	26. Broken Bottles

**Author's Note: Their reunion is coming soon, in a few more chapters- no more hate mail!**

* * *

The flight back from Rome was as pleasant as any air flight could be, which is to say, not very pleasant at all. The long lines, the cramped space of the aircraft, the rudeness of other passengers- air travel has the potential of trying the human spirit, but the pair thankfully returned home to France early in the day without any major incidents. 

Raoul opened the door to his new home and set down their luggage. Stretching his arms, he stifled a long yawn, "Ah, home again. I'd kill for a decent croissant or even a little Brie, what about you?" He asked, turning to Christine.

She wasn't wearing her heavy makeup or the more provocative clothes that she'd come into wearing for nights out in Rome- Raoul was clinging to the hope that it had just been a rebellious phase, and that she was now ready to move on. With a bare face and more common clothing she looked both younger and more innocent, more like the Christine he'd known all his life.

"The food in Rome was wonderful, but there's nothing like French cooking- everywhere else in the world it is merely a necessity, but we French have elevated it to an art form!" She smiled with a touch of patriotic glee.

Raoul took in the view of his city from the large central window in the living room. "Ah, but we excel at more than just food, do we not, mademoiselle? Our art, our architecture, the beauty of our women, the vision of our men! And let us not forget that we French have also elevated making love into an art form," Raoul drawled, winking at her suggestively. "Surely we are the envy of all Europe, oui?"

Christine raised her brows, "No, monsieur, the whole world!"

Raoul laughed, "Oui, le monde entier,"

Christine stretched her own arms and took a seat on the couch in his sunken living room. "I'll take you shopping for groceries later on today, Raoul. That is, if you are not too tired,"

Raoul puffed out his chest, and as expected, he began to brag. "You think a simple plane ride is enough to wear me out? Christine it seems that you've forgotten who it is you are dealing with- I'm Raoul de Chagny, I've swum the English Channel and can bench press twice my own weight!"

Christine rolled her eyes, "And you've always been so modest! Meg must be very impressed,"

"You know she is, are you trying to tell me that you aren't?" Raoul asked with good-natured arrogance.

"Well, I'm not as impressed as Meg...speaking of whom, are you two ever going to date?" Christine asked. Raoul had the decency to appear embarrassed by the question.

"Oh, please…I love Meg the way I love you, and it might be nice to go out with her but I can't really see much of a future for us. Hell, I can't even see a date with her as a possibility, and you know why." Raoul said pointedly.

"Her mother,"

He threw up his hands, "Yes, of course her mother! That woman has a vendetta to make every man miserable, I know it. You know how overbearing and disapproving she is. She'd rather see Meg dead than see her date!" Raoul growled in frustration.

Christine put a hand on his shoulder. "You're a catch, Raoul. There isn't a woman on earth that could resist you,"

"I might be a catch but I doubt Meg would turn her back on her own mother just to go out a few times with me. Besides, I think we both know from experience that great friends don't always make great romance."

Christine nodded. "I understand. Raoul, all this talk has made me hungry!" She said, trying to lift his spirits by a change of subject.

Raoul smirked, "Very subtle, Christine. But you're right, no sense in mourning anything I haven't lost, right? Come on, show me your grocery expertise."

And so Christine and Raoul spent what was left of the day restocking his apartment with only two essentials: food and alcohol. For one reason or another, the alcohol was the only thing they'd opened, and the two were drunk in no time, which was no real surprise given that they hadn't touched any of the food.

Christine, being smaller, thinner and under greater emotional stress than Raoul, had succumbed to the bottles quickly and soon she was ranting, with Raoul joining in for good measure. "I can't understand why Erik acted like that! He was being crazy, like a madman- he hurt me, Raoul, he's never hurt me before, it was terrifying. He thinks I was cheating on him! Me! Can you believe that?" She demanded, nearly spilling her fifth shot.

Raoul took a large gulp of his beer- he couldn't remember which one it was, he'd lost count somewhere along the line- and shook his head. "Erik's a fuckin' idiot, Christine. You really want to spend forever with him on your mind? Forget him! He's nothing! The next time I see him, I'll rip him apart, starting with his bony, knock-kneed legs and I'll finish with his entire mask collection…"

"Erik is like a wild animal, Raoul, he's crazy when he gets angry. But, I hope you do kill him- kill him for me Raoul? I don't want him on my mind anymore. I want to get rid of his ring, and I want you and me and Meg to be together again- just take me back to before I met him and he ruined my life!" Christine demanded, suddenly breaking down to sob.

Raoul put an arm around her, "Hey, anything you want, right? I'm Raoul de Chagny, I can do anything I want. If I want to make you happy, I can do that! You've been happy here with me, right?"

Christine only cried harder.

"Well, maybe not all that happy, it's all because of him! Stupid freak- I'll kill him, starting with his legs…what? Oh, right. You want us all together again, do you Christine? I can do that! I'm Raoul de Chagny! It's already cold outside, and Christmas is on the way. I'll get Meg and we'll be together again, I promise you!" Raoul said, waving his bottle around and dropping it on the floor. It shattered, but he was too drunk to care.

"How are you going to do that? Her mother thinks you're an evil man-"

"Oh yeah? Well, I think she's an old crone, so I guess that makes us even, right? What's so wrong with me? Does she think that she can get someone better than me? I'm Raoul de Chagny! It doesn't get any better! Hell, I could be a duke, forget about a vicomte!" He ranted.

Christine stumbled over to him and moved to sit in his lap. She drained the dram of scotch that she'd just poured, and dropped the glass beside his shattered beer bottle. "Raoul, Meg couldn't hope for anyone better and her mom is crazy not to like you- I think she hates men because of Erik, he said they knew each other a long time ago…it all comes back to him, doesn't it?"

Raoul took a shot. "Ugh, Erik has ruined everything!"

Christine stared at him in a stupor. "You've grown into a very handsome man,"

Raoul likewise looked her up and down. "And you've…" Raoul didn't finish as he let his lips do the talking. He pressed his lips to hers, but he felt no response from Christine, and pulled back to look at her. He couldn't believe it, she had passed out. He shrugged, "Figures," and scooped her into his arms.

Careful not to shred the bottom of his feet with the glass that littered the floor, Raoul staggeringly carried Christine into his bedroom. Dumping her on the bed, he stared at her for a minute with glassy eyes. He started talking to her, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Look at what you let Erik do to you! I never thought I'd see you so torn up over any man, you're too wonderful to be so miserable. Forget him, Christine, please forget everything about Erik..."

Raoul flopped into bed beside her and was sinking into a drunken sleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Never again," Raoul muttered as he awoke on the floor of his bedroom to a skull-splitting headache. 

_Beer, scotch, shots…I think there might have been wine…this is all your fault, Christine!_

He put a hand to his temple and struggled to stand up. Christine was still asleep in his bed, so he left her alone and staggered into his living room. He felt nauseous, but not enough that he thought he'd actually be sick. Besides, he'd been drunk and hung over before, but he'd never been made sick from alcohol so he didn't give it too much worry.

"I need breakfast and- agh!" Raoul hopped backwards on one foot and looked down to find the remains of a beer bottle and a glass on the floor. The shock of pain lanced through him and cleared away the fog over his mind by last night's alcohol. He was alert and cursed loudly. "Goddamn it! Stupid, fucking- argh!" he groaned loudly as he pulled a few pieces out from his foot. He quickly limped into the kitchen for tweezers to remove the few remaining slivers. Wincing and cursing, he pulled them out and then bandaged his sole.

Frustrated and angry, Raoul swept away every last speck of glass and then moved to sop up his own blood.

"All right, I wasn't sober before but I sure as hell am now," he growled to himself.

When he was done with it all, he laid down on the couch and massaged his temples in a futile attempt to rub away the pain.

_Not a great start to the day, but at least it was my feet and not Christine's. She doesn't need anything else on top of her problems with Erik…_

His thoughts turned back to his drunken friend and he rose off the couch. Christine was still sleeping off the alcohol in her system- just as Raoul knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't be sick after a long night of drinking, he knew that Christine's best bet was to just sleep for as long as she could. Slipping into his room again, he changed his clothes and slipped right back out without her even so much as shifting beneath his sheets.

Raoul dropped a kiss on her forehead before leaving.

_Sleep, Christine. You sleep, while I go have a little talk with Erik…_

Raoul decided to leave his car and walk the way to the Latour chateau. The air outside was crisp with the impending autumn, and he thought that it was just as well- as drunk as he'd been the night before, and as hung over as he was now, Raoul figured that some fresh air and exercise would do him good.

He picked up a coffee and croissant on his way, hoping to return himself to full alertness. Between his filled stomach and the cold air on his face, Raoul felt back to his old self in no time. Erik's chateau was predictably secluded, and as Raoul made his way across the city, he thought about the things Christine had told him. The most defining feature about Erik was that he'd been born with a terrible deformity; Christine had claimed that he resembled a corpse behind his masks.

It was because of this deformity that Erik had been forced to wear a mask throughout his life- he'd lived with his mother, but he'd grown up isolated and very bitter. Raoul couldn't imagine a life without a caring family. He loved his parents and his brother. He tried to imagine what his own life would have been if he hadn't had Christine and Meg, his best girls, by his side.

He tried to put himself into Erik's place.

_No friends, no family. All my life there's been abuse over a damaged face that I can't repair, I can only cover myself with a mask. I've had no one, until Christine came into my life. I'm in love with her, but I can never let her see my face- she'd never come back if she saw the real me. I tried to hide the truth, but when she saw me…_

Raoul stopped short on his walk to the chateau and took a deep breath. All at once he felt a great swell of loneliness, rage, jealousy and tremendous frustration. That must have been how Erik felt for most of his life. Raoul pitied Erik then, but just as soon crushed his pity as he remembered Christine's tears.

_I won't let you use your face as an excuse for what you put her through, Erik. Christine didn't deserve anything that you did to her, and I'll make dam sure you know that but I won't let you get her back- I'll make sure you never hurt her again!_

Steeled with angry determination, Raoul turned a corner that lead to the front drive of the large chateau. The drive had been open the entire time he'd stayed there weeks ago, but Raoul frowned to see that the main entrance to the home was now barred shut. Tall iron gates warned against the passersby- _stay out, stay away_- the twin gate doors were chained together, a heavy lock hanging down between them.

He ignored the chained gates and walked around the perimeter of the chateau. High brick walls surrounded the property, lending the place a secure presence, but at the moment it only served to annoy him. The air around him was becoming colder, silent, the sky above was dark and threatening rain.

Was it just the weather or was it the thought of seeing Erik again that so filled Raoul with dread?

The walls were high, yes, but there was no barbed wire, at least. Raoul hoped that Erik hadn't bought a guard dog after Christine had left him. He pulled a metal trashcan close to the wall and used it as a stepladder. Groaning, he pulled himself over the rough brick rim of the wall, and landed in the yard on the other side. He smiled to himself over the small triumph, but he knew that the real challenge and danger still lurked somewhere within the grand house.

_I don't want to come in through the back door- I'm not a criminal! I'll approach the front door for a more direct confrontation_, Raoul thought as he walked around the side of the house. He didn't try to take in the details, but even he could see that the yard had grown out of control. The pool and the fountain were green and rimmed with algae, and the flowerbeds appeared unkempt. Even the grass he tread upon had grown high around his calves.

_Not that I care much about the yard work_, he thought to himself. _I hope that the chained gate and the overgrown yard is a sign that Erik has left for good! Christine won't have to worry about him anymore and I can just write off this morning as being little more than exercise'_

He turned from the side yard and strode directly to the front porch of the house. Raoul knocked loudly, five times, and rang the bell. He could hear the bell echoing within; he knew that whoever was inside the house- if anyone- had to have heard him. Raoul waited for ten minutes, continuingly pounding on the door and ringing the bell. He even called Erik's names a few times for good measure.

It seemed the house was truly empty. Erik was gone, perhaps forever. Raoul sighed with satisfaction- with Erik gone, Christine could leave behind her pain and grief. She could get back to real life and be who she was before any of this had ever happened.

_She needs more time; another month, maybe two, and Christine will be back to her old self. Erik will soon be little more than a memory- she won't even have anything of his to remind her of the impact he's had on her life, I'll take his ring and we'll throw it off the Pont au Change together!_

Raoul turned towards the chained gates, planning to climb over them, and he kicked a stone out of his way. Glancing down at the rocks all about the ground, a vengeful idea occurred to him. He bent down and chose the closest he could grab. "For Christine!" He yelled out, and hurled the stone into a window on the first floor.

"Monster! You son of a bitch! You don't know what you put her through!"

The window shattered, music to his ears. Raoul grabbed another, and another and another, crying out Christine's name as he avenged her with every broken window. It was cathartic to him- he had done all in his power to soothe and cheer his devastated friend, but with every tear Christine had shed, Raoul's own fury had only grown.

_Who was this monster to hurt Christine, to take advantage of her, to betray her in the worst possible way that a man ever could?!_

Raoul spat on the front door of Erik's house and turned on his heel, content to leave the chateau behind forever. He spun around at the sound of glass shattering behind him, and narrowly dodged as something large was hurled straight at him through the last intact window.

Raoul landed hard on his back and rolled away, quickly standing and regaining himself. His eyes opened wide and he took a step back. "Erik!"

It had been Erik that had jumped through the window, and Raoul had narrowly avoided being pounced upon and ripped apart. Erik stood several feet away from him, and Raoul could hardly believe his eyes.

The man was a wreck- it appeared to Raoul that Erik's clothes were hanging off his reed-thin frame; his suit was rumpled and frayed on the edges of the sleeves. He had been prepared to see Erik without a mask- he had assumed that Christine's descriptions were enough to prepare him to go face to hideous face with the man that had so hurt his friend.

Raoul took a step back upon locking eyes with Erik. _Christine wasn't lying! He truly looks like Death!_

It was a shock to see Erik unmasked, but the man's crazed expression was what truly unnerved him. The eyes that had once been an interesting, almost pleasing amber color now burned blood-red with crazed fury. Erik's jaw was twitching, as were his hands. Raoul's heart pounded.

Erik stared at him and tilted his bizarre head from one side to the other, a terrifying metronome. It was strange to finally hear Erik's voice, clear and unmuffled, and despite himself Raoul had to admit that Christine had been right; the man's voice did possess a strange, hypnotic quality. At another time he might have enjoyed it's musical tone, but when Erik finally spoke he sounded manic, bordering on hysterical.

"Raoul! Not enough you took Christine, but you must desecrate my tomb as well? Is there no end to the disrespect you show to me, stupid boy? Stupid boy, stupid boy, glass everywhere, shattered all across my house. This was once a grand house that kept the most wonderful mistress. She's gone now, gone from me, gone away; it was you!"

Erik had started to walk forward, and Raoul took a step back to match every step that the maniac took toward him. The man's strong, thin hands were twitching, clenching into fists and then relaxing his long fingers. He wanted nothing more than to fight Erik, but Raoul recalled that Christine had said Erik was perfectly capable of killing, and had years of experience in doing so without remorse.

Now that Erik was clearly unstable Raoul knew he'd have to be on the constant defensive. For all he knew, someone could die here in the glass-strewn front drive and Raoul would be goddamned if it was him.

He was not afraid and his voice was firm, "Erik, calm down and listen to me-"

"No! Why listen now? I heard you out here screaming as you destroyed my windows. Handsome, golden boy! The Queen was right all along! I never should have let you into my home- you would never have tempted _her_, I could have been happy with her lies, I would have believed them for years and years…and now you're here again," Erik hissed, never slowing his predatory stalk towards the young man.

"Why have you come back? Are you here to gloat? _Christine_ came to you, I know she did. After what I did to her...the poor, wonderful, lying angel…things were perfect between us before you came back. But now she's gone and you're here. Why are you here? I promised her once that I would not kill again. So long as she stayed with me, no blood would touch my hands. But now she's gone away so I am free to renege, no? Don't worry, I can kill you without shedding a drop of blood!"

Erik reached into his jacked and threw something at Raoul. He raised an arm to catch whatever it was, and the next thing he knew, a tight, thin rope had latched around his forearm. "What the hell?" He cried out in surprise.

_A lasso?_

Erik had not moved, the rope remained in his thin hand. Silence hung between them, and as Raoul watched, Erik appeared to break. The lasso was dropped from his nerveless hand, while he in kind dropped to his knees. Raoul unknotted the gilded rope from his arm, tossing it away on the ground. Wincing, he realized that Erik had pulled the lasso rope so tight that the skin on his arm had broken, a ring of bloodied skin surrounded his forearm.

"So you have defeated me in every way now, haven't you Raoul? I had everything, and I've long been planning revenge. It would have been so beautiful, a show for the whole of Paris, but I have no more fight left in me. You have taken Christine away from me, and you have won your life to live with her. Leave me, Raoul de Chagny, leave and forget me. Can you grant a dying man's last request?"

Raoul, so confused by everything that had just happened within the past ten minutes, could only nod dumbly.

Erik's shoulders drooped- he had never appeared thinner, older or more weak. "I've never begged a man for anything, but I will beg you now- please, don't tell Christine. She knows everything horrible of me, but I don't wish her to know of this final defeat. This is the final nail in my coffin, and I will not last the rest of the year. Take her, and care for her, please, protect her. She must be happy with you, don't tell her about this, any mention of me must be upsetting. Go back to her Raoul, but tell her nothing of what happened today…"

Raoul turned away from Erik and wondered if the whole world had just gone crazy.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, I know- fluffy filler chapters suck and drunken filler chapters are the absolute worst! But, you have to get through the crap to get to the really juicy parts, right? So, chin up, the best is yet to come ;-)**


	27. Music Notes

**Author's Note: Long chapter here, enjoy! Next chapter Erik and Christine's reunion! Fun, immature silliness mixed with some serious business ;-) **

* * *

Raoul had been unsure how to go on with Christine after seeing how unhinged Erik had become. He knew now, with certainty, that if the golden rope had landed around his neck, Raoul would have been a dead man. There was a definite change in him, knowing he'd barely escaped with his life on Christine's behalf, but his loyalty to his friend remained unshaken. 

_I can't tell Christine what happened between Erik and I- how would it make things better for her? Even after all her time with me, Christine still cries for Erik and is always staring at his damn ring. If I told her now just how far gone Erik has become, she'd only want to return and try to "fix" him! I'll be damned if I let her get anywhere near that monster ever again! _

She was awake when he got home. "Hey, Raoul, where'd you go?"

He had been deep in thought, and started at her voice. "Oh! I was just…out for some air. How are you feeling?" He asked quickly.

Christine rubbed her head and yawned. He noticed that she was still wearing her clothes from the night before. "Um…I'm not feeling so hot. We must have drank a lake's worth last night,"

Raoul nodded and moved closer to take her into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and took the time to enjoy simply holding her. He took a deep breath and wondered if Erik had ever genuinely appreciated Christine for herself, or if it had all been some sick game to him.

Christine did not pull away from him but she had to ask, "Raoul is everything all right?"

He swallowed and pulled back. "Um, yeah, sure. Why do you ask?"

Christine tilted her head to the side and quirked her eyebrows, "Well, for starters, your arms is bloody,"

Raoul glanced down at his injured arm, "Oh, right. It's nothing, don't worry about it. I jumped a fence and got snagged on a rough edge," he said easily. Raoul didn't like to lie to his friends, but the truth would accomplish nothing. "Hey, why don't you lie down on the couch? I'll bring you some aspirin for your head and then I'm going to go online for a little while."

Christine shrugged and nodded, moving off towards the couch. Raoul quickly brought her the aspirin, a glass of water and a plate of crackers to settle her stomach. "I'm never drinking again," she said as she took the pills from him.

Raoul winked, "That's what you said last time."

* * *

'**Meg,**

**I've bought you a plane ticket to Paris and I'm begging you to use it. Christine has been living with me since you and your mother left. I can't explain what happened between them, but Christine has left Erik. I've been trying so hard to make her happy and make her forget all about him, I even took her to Rome! I've done everything I can think of and so far it's been no use. She cries for him almost every night and it's only gotten worse the closer we get to Christmas.**

**I think she needs another girl to talk to, there's only so much I can do for her.**

**Meg, I'm out of my depth. I went to see Erik a while ago and _he nearly killed me_. The man has come unhinged, and I'm grateful he doesn't know where I live. After seeing him, I don't know what he'll do. Come stay with us for awhile, Meg. Christine needs you.'**

Meg read and reread Raoul's desperate e-mail. Nothing he had written made any sense to her- Christine left Erik and he'd gone murderous? Ludicrous! Meg had seen them together, they had been so happy, newlyweds in love. What had happened in those few days between the time Meg had seen them and Christine had left Erik? Her curiosity overcame her and she clicked on the attachment that brought up the online plane ticket that Raoul had provided.

Meg didn't mention it to him in her reply message, but ever since Erik had planted the seeds of doubt in her mind about her mother's past, life on the island had been a living hell. Claire had remained as tight-lipped as ever about her past and how she had known Erik; in fact she rarely spoke at all, outside of barking out strict orders for every mundane task she could come up with to distract her daughter.

Meg printed the ticket and began to pack a bag. "I can't take it here anymore," she mused out loud to herself. She missed her friends; nothing had been the same since they'd left the island for the lights of Paris. She was lonely and bored without them.

Every night before she had gone to sleep, Meg had stayed up and wondered what adventure they were on, while she was trapped here alone on the island, going around in warring circles of frustration with her mother.

_The same thing, day in, day out…God, I can't stand it here anymore!_

Meg stuffed her clothes into a worn suitcase and paused once she looked up and saw a framed picture of her and her mother on the top of her dresser. As usual, her mother's face appeared slightly stern in the photograph, even as she was smiling.

Meg frowned and glanced to the photo beside it- Raoul and Christine smiled back at her; the picture had been taken the year before, when none of them could have imagined the strange paths that their lives had taken.

She looked back at the photograph of her mother. "If you won't tell me the truth, I'll go to the man who can," she said decisively.

* * *

"I'm the envy of only half the men in Paris to be living with you two beauties, but if we arrange a nice little menage a trois, I think the other half would crown me king," 

Meg turned to Raoul with wide eyes, "That wasn't funny the first time," she said dryly. "I've only been in Paris for a few hours, and that's all you've talked about since the plane landed!"

The girls were lounging in his sunken living room, both of them nestled together in the loveseat sofa. Indeed, Meg had arrived in the late afternoon, a wonderful surprise to Christine, who had been longing for her female companion.

Christine had been resting her head in Meg's lap as the blonde braided her hair, the both of them clothed in delicate night sets- Meg in scarlet, Christine in azure- that showcased long legs and pert breasts.

The two of them there, so different but both of them so beautiful, could inspire artists.

If it had been Raoul wielding a paintbrush, he might have titled a portrait, _'Grooming Nymphs' _or _'Beauties At Play.'_

But he wasn't an artist, and painting them was the farthest thing from his mind. Teasingly coaxing them into his bed (he was teasing, but on the off-chance that they might agree, Raoul couldn't say that he would turn down the chance to indulge a long-held fantasy) was much more fun, letting his alcohol-loosened lips do the talking for his loins.

"I'm not trying to be funny, I'm trying to relieve some tension. It's almost Christmas, ladies, and I only have one thing on my list!" He laughed as he sipped his second glass of brandy. Raoul sat down across from them and raised his eyebrows suggestively, his gaze roving over them with equal appreciation. "Come on, I've been so _good_ this year,"

"No, Raoul," Christine said, smiling. "Is this the only reason that you flew Meg to Paris?"

"Not the only reason," he shot back, without thinking.

"It's not that I'm not grateful to be here," Meg cut in quickly, "but can you think of anything else for us all to do together?"

Raoul set down his glass and studied the two of them. "You're not a man, but I'll tell you right now: no man in his right mind would be able to think of anything else after seeing the two of you. I think that you sometimes forget I'm as red-blooded as any man. Think of my lust as a compliment," he advised as he took a seat across from them.

Christine rose from Meg's lap so that she could sit upright; her hair was now weaved into one long ebony plait down her back. "In that case, thank you very much Raoul, we're flattered."

"Oh yeah? If you're so flattered then why not let me stuff your stockings tonight?" He asked as he drained his glass.

"Raoul!" The girls gasped, somewhat appalled and somewhat amused as his lack of manners.

He wasn't being his usual self at all!

Raoul put a hand to his forehead, "All right, all right, I'm sorry, that was out of line, I need to think before I speak. Sorry, it's just been a really long time for me, and you're both so…hey, what's so funny?" He demanded as his two beauties erupted in laughter.

"Raoul, laying on a sob story, come on! You're two steps away from begging, what's the matter with you?" Meg asked as she touched her gamine hair.

"The short answer is that I'm bored, I'm lonely, and I haven't had a woman in six months! Not since that blonde I met in London…I don't know how you women go for months and months in between lovers like it's nothing. You store up your passion like sexual camels, don't you?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yes, Raoul, you've figured out our secret. Look, I can understand that you're feeling, ah, lonely, and I'm sure we're not helping things, if you want us to leave we can just get to a hotel-"

"No! It's bad enough I have to sleep every night by myself, but you wouldn't really leave me alone on Christmas, would you?" He asked, knowing that he could increase his level of vulgarity tenfold, and they still wouldn't leave him.

They were the greatest of friends, after all.

"You know we wouldn't. But we also won't sleep with you, no matter how _amazing_ it would be," Christine purred with a suggestive wiggle. Raoul groaned. "We also won't be helping you to the Red Light to look for _putains_ either, but I have an idea,"

"I'm all ears,"

"We could have a party. I know you have plenty of friends in Paris and not everyone has someone to spend holidays with," Christine said softly, willing her mind not to jump immediately to Erik, who, most assuredly, would be alone. "It might be fun, the three of us together, along with whoever else can make it,"

Raoul brightened, "Hey, that's a great idea!"

Meg nodded in agreement, "Brilliant…so, Raoul, you have a lot of rich, handsome, single friends in the city?"

He smiled at her, "But of course, mademoiselle. Plenty of other trust-fund babies like me out there, you just have to know where to look. Let me make a few phone calls."

The girls smiled- finally, Raoul had a distraction!

Meg turned to Christine once Raoul had gone from the room, "All right, he's gone, you can drop the act now,"

"What are you talking about?"

Meg's eyes widened. "What am I- you know why Raoul flew me out, and I know that you know I'm more or less a runaway right now,"

"I…"

"Look, Christine, Raoul e-mailed me for help. He sent me a plane ticket so that I could help him with you,"

"He's making me sound like an invalid or something!" Christine huffed. "Besides, don't you think it's a little late for an intervention? I've been here for weeks already,"

"Stop that, he's just worried about you. He said that you cry for Erik every night," Meg prodded gently.

"Not _every_ night," Christine muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

"You're still wearing his ring, aren't you?"

Christine covered her hand in a gesture of protection. "I…look, I'm just…I'm fine. I don't want to talk about the ring or Erik, all right? I'm fine, he's fine, I don't want to talk about this anymore with you or anyone else, and I'm warning you, don't bring it up again." She hissed.

Meg's eyes widened at her words, "I…all right, if that's what you want,"

"It is. I'm sorry, but I'm just sick of talking about it, sick of thinking about it. Forget it, it never happened! Let's help Raoul plan the party. Christmas is meant to be a happy time, and all Erik brings me is misery."

* * *

One week later, and the party was in full swing on Christmas Eve. Raoul's guest list proved loyal to their friend, who had promised a night of fun with more than a cup of holiday cheer. Never ones to turn down a good time or free drinks, Raoul had met with wholehearted enthusiasm from his friends at every turn. There were perhaps twenty guests, not counting the host or either of the two beauties on his arm. 

And beautiful could not begin to describe the picture that the three of them made!

In typical de Chagny style, Raoul had issued invitations dictating a formal wardrobe requirement. It was a chic affair, even if the guest list amounted to less than fifty people. A sleek black suit was his selected attire, and not a female eye wasn't aware of just how handsome and charismatic he'd grown over the years.

With Meg and Christine on his arms, he had the envy of all the men in the room, and so Raoul's ego was satisfied for the moment.

Both Meg and Christine were an equally stunning sight to behold. As it was, they had never been as fortunate and so had never mixed within Raoul's higher circles.

They were new faces in a sea of old wealth.

Because Raoul had never been stingy, in fact he was often generous to a fault, he had provided his two friends with the means to acquire proper dresses for the night. It was a very special occasion, after all.

Meg had fallen in love with a dress showcased in the window of an exclusive _Oscar de la_ _Renta_ boutique. Raoul had insisted that she buy it; he'd fallen in love with her the moment she'd stepped out of the dressing room, no other dress could have ever suited her as well. It was a gown of tulle in the purest snow white, embroidered with gold flower vines that weaved down the full skirt, stemming from the low-cut bodice. A gold ribbon tied over the empire waist. Meg had never dreamed to own something so ethereal and elegant, but Raoul had refused to see her in anything else.

Christine, by intentional contrast, had chosen a sleek sheath of the palest pink silk. The dress skimmed over her lithe body, hugging her curves without appearing tight. It had a gathered neckline, relatively high in comparison to Meg's, accented with tiny jewels on the straps. Both Raoul and Meg had gone out of their minds in adoration when she had shown them, so of course Christine knew better than to second-guess her choice.

Raoul had surprised them earlier that day, just before the party, with necklaces- citrine for Meg, amethyst for Christine, to match. "We will be the talk of the city, you know that, don't you?" Meg asked as her eyes took in the happy crowd.

Raoul smiled, "I wouldn't have it any other way. With you two, I've at least made an impression tonight."

Christine nudged him in the ribs. "Oh, come on, Raoul. You've thrown together a party so that all of these people would have somewhere to be on Christmas Eve- they'll remember you when it comes time to do business,"

He shrugged, "Well, yeah, but having the two most beautiful women in the whole of Europe on my arms doesn't hurt my reputation either, you know?"

Meg sighed dramatically, "You hear that, Christine? Raoul has turned his two best friends into trophies. I'm telling you, money is the root of all evil,"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you should put that in a Hallmark card," Raoul drawled. "Now, if you'll excuse me please, there's a fantastic redhead over by the stereo who looks like she needs a dance partner,"

The three of them looked over to see a young woman with flaming red hair flowing down her back, a spectacular contrast to her pale mint dress. She stared right back at them, fearlessly, and she raised a hand to crook a beckoning finger at Raoul.

Meg raised her brows, "Wow, Raoul, she's as bold as you, I think you've met your match,"

Mouth already watering, he nodded and crossed the room, determined to make some sort of conquest- whether over the fiery stranger's body or just by getting her telephone number.

Christine rolled her eyes playfully at Meg. "Two of a kind, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

Meg might have said something else but a man, the heir to a Mediterranean shipping empire, had approached her and asked for a dance. Naturally, she didn't refuse, and so Christine was left on her own for a time. She didn't mind. The party was in full swing; those who weren't dancing were either laughing or drinking. There was a fine drink in every hand, champagne for the ladies, something stronger for the men. Everyone was dressed in elegant dresses and finely tailored suits, the heights of fashion. As the end of the night drew nearer, there was to be a countdown to Christmas day in the style of New Year's Eve; those who had someone to kiss would bring out a piece of mistletoe before brushing lips.

Christine glanced at a clock- there were only fifteen minutes left before the hour struck midnight, and from the looks of things, Raoul would have his redhead, and Meg would have her man to kiss.

Uninvited thoughts filled her mind, memories of Erik flooding in.

The first kiss between them had been so hesitant. Erik had been so shocked that he hadn't even returned the motion of her lips when she had dared to lift his mask in the dark and kiss him. As time had gone on, however, Erik had grown much bolder.

Christine realized now that in kissing him, she'd set free something inside of him. Something pure and wonderful for most, but with Erik…perhaps he was just too different, too damaged to understand love in it's many different forms. In pushing him physically further and further with each passing night, Christine felt that she had unwittingly encouraged everything dark within his soul; a jealous, possessive monster of rage and lust.

Even now, Christine had to wonder if, perhaps, they had never kissed, Erik might never have reacted to her in such a covetous fury.

_No_.

Christine shook the thought away. It was too late to wander after the endless paths of "what if?".

Erik had taken her mind from her for a full day, stripping her emotionally, mentally and literally. Christine remembered the photographs that he'd taken of her, some while she was naked, most while she was not. She shivered at the memory of the one image she had taken of herself, leaving Erik with that one last glimpse of her.

The sex between them, while brutal, had not been rape. Christine remembered that though she had said "no" to Erik, it had been while she was kissing him, arching herself against him, and so words meant nothing in the face of the actions she'd taken that morning.

It had been painful, but only because she had remained virtually untouched for a year. She cared nothing for her body. It was the pain of her soul that had been increased tenfold once sufficient time had passed and she'd been able to remember and reflect.

The man she loved had hated her.

That morning hadn't been about the love Erik had claimed to have for her; it'd been about his blind lust and pride, a need to satisfy himself, never mind if he hurt her in the process. Erik had used her, and told her as much after it was done.

_**"You owed that to me, Christine,"**_

His words were burned into her memory. Christine sighed, _What does it matter now?_

Now, when she'd been living with Raoul for weeks with no contact at all with Erik. She tried to push the man from her mind, but it was impossible. She had cried oceans of tears for him. Christine loved Erik- he was her first and only love, but how could she love a man that hated her? How could any woman?

She took a glass of champagne and felt content to people-watch for a time, losing herself in her thoughts. Erik's ring still glinted on her finger, though Christine tried to ignore it.

* * *

It was at the stroke of midnight that the guests in attendance cheered a chorus of "Merry Christmas!" loud enough to be heard down the street. Christine smiled as both Raoul and Meg kissed their dance partners; she felt a tiny sting of jealousy that she had no one, but she couldn't claim an interest for any of the handsome young men that Raoul had invited- there was only one man that her heart longed for. 

Midnight's Christmas had acted as the climax of Raoul's party, and also the catalyst for several one-night stands, as several new couples thanked their host for a wonderful evening before making hasty exits out the door. Both Raoul's fiery redhead and Meg's handsome heir decided to leave to spend Christmas day with their respective families, but not before leaving their phone numbers and parting from them with fervent kisses.

Raoul sighed heavily as he watched his woman leave, then turned a very smug, self-satisfied look to his two friends. "She wants me,"

Christine rolled her eyes and smiled. "Of course she does, that's why she left without you, right?"

"That's why she gave me a key to her hotel suite," Raoul corrected, holding up the key. He glanced around his apartment. "Figures. I host a fantastic party and no one wants to hang around to help clean up," he groused as he waved an arm to encompass his living room.

Nearly every flat surface was covered with empty glasses, food and napkins; not to mention that all of his furniture had been moved to make space for an improvised dance floor and the party streamers were strewn everywhere.

"No worries, Raoul, we'll help you," Meg assured him as she ruffled her short platinum locks.

He waved an unconcerned hand. "Don't bother with it now, you'd ruin your dresses. Besides, it's Christmas. I love you girls," he said happily, hugging the both of them.

"And we love you, Raoul, you know we do." Meg told him, Christine nodding in agreement.

Raoul scoffed, "Well, of course you love me! What woman could resist all of this?" he asked in his usual arrogant way, posing to flex his biceps and chest, smiling at them all the while.

Meg swatted his arm, "It's so big," she said, meaning his ego.

"Yeah, that's what Sophia will be saying in just a few days," Raoul said confidently as he removed his suit jacket, meaning something entirely different.

Christine snorted and started laughing, while Meg took a bottle of champagne and poured three glasses. "To us,"

Their glasses chinked together and they began to sip.

Surprisingly, a knock sounded at the door. Raoul set down his glass and went to answer it, expecting one of his guests to have forgotten something, but to his surprise an urgent mail currier was waiting in the hallway.

"I…hi there," Raoul greeted, bewildered.

The older currier nodded, "Hello sir. I have select documents for a Mr. Raoul de Chagny?"

He nodded, "Um, yeah, that's me," he said as he took a slim manila envelope from the currier. "What is this? It's so late, not to mention being a holiday, this can't be business,"

The currier shrugged, "No sir- it's been sent from a private citizen. By any chance is there a Christine Daae or Meg Giry here tonight?"

Dumbfounded, Raoul stepped aside and allowed the currier to step inside to deliver right into their hands. "Yeah, they're actually both here,"

The currier smiled, "That's a lucky break for me to find all of you in the same place at the same time! Here you are, ladies. Meg Giry?"

The blonde stepped forward and took an envelope, thanking the mailman but obviously very confused.

The currier smiled at the two beauties. "And last but not least, Christine Daae," he said, handing a thicker envelope to her. "Thank you all very much and merry Christmas," the man said as he left the apartment.

Raoul raised his eyebrows at his ladies, "Well this is kind of weird. On the count of three?"

Meg shrugged and Christine nodded in agreement. "All right, one, two, three,"

All together, they opened their envelopes, but it was Christine who turned pale and gasped, "Erik?!"

They had each received a letter from Erik Latour.

* * *

**Author's Note 2: The dresses described for Christine and Meg are actually from the December 2004 issue of _Elle_ magazine, which had the lovely Emmy Rossum on the cover. I don't have a link, but if you get to her website through Google, check her photo gallery and you can get a visual that way- such pretty dresses, I want to be in a magazine too! ;-)**


	28. Russian Roulette, Aces and The Joker

"I can't believe this," Raoul muttered as he unfolded his letter from Erik.

Christine had sunk down into a chair, her eyes furiously moving back and forth over her own letter. Meg wasn't sure how to react; out of the three of them she had had the smallest amount of contact with the man. Why would he have written to her?

She held her envelope, which surely contained a letter for her. What could he have to say to her? Erik had taken the time to write out letters and assign them to be delivered precisely on Christmas day, but why?

Meg looked down at her dress, and she felt that the holiday cheer had gone right out of her. She didn't bother to refill her champagne flute; she took the bottle and let it flow down her throat.

Raoul moved over to her, "Save some for her," he said, motioning to Christine, "She's going to drink me dry tonight,"

Meg nodded but didn't release the bottle; there she was with a bizarre man's words to her in one hand and an expensive bottle of fine champagne in the other. She watched as Christine began to read the second page of Erik's letter, and followed Raoul into the privacy of his kitchen.

She pointed to the letter in his hand, "What did he have to say to you?"

Raoul blinked and looked down at his hand, as if he'd forgotten about it. He sighed, "He just wanted me to know how lucky I am that Christine loves me, that's all. Oh, and he mentioned something about haunting me to the end of my days if any unhappiness should ever befall her. Morbid bastard."

He set his letter on the counter and turned to her, "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk about it, just you and me, but everything I wrote to you was true. Christine probably hasn't told you anything, but the long and short of it is that Erik hurt her the day after you and your mother left them. She came here all bruised up because he thought that she was leaving him for me,"

Meg's eyes widened and her lips parted but she made no sound. When she spoke, it was a low, urgent whisper. "Raoul, what?! It doesn't make any sense, I saw them the morning before- everything seemed fine between them…I can't believe this…Erik, he didn't-"

Raoul held up a hand, "No, Christine told me he was just, ah, rough with her…" He brought a hand up to massage his temples, all business. "Right. Well, whatever happened that morning was between them, and that's as far as it should go. I can't do anything more for her, I've done everything I could think of, and even now that son of a bitch is tormenting her." He growled, flexing his fists. The young man got control over his temper, taking a deep breath, "Sorry. What does your letter say?"

Meg glanced at the manila envelope. "I haven't opened it. What could he want to tell me? I didn't even know him,"

Raoul faced her and leaned against the kitchen island. "You might not have known him but he knew your mother,"

She nodded, dread was knotting heavily in her chest and stomach. "Yeah, I know…Raoul, I don't want to read this. I'm not sure if I want to know what he had to tell me."

He tilted his head to the side. "If you don't read it then you'll never know. It might not be pleasant, I know my letter sure as hell wasn't, but the way I see it if Erik took the time to write to you then in a way you owe it to him to read it. Just my opinion," he said, shrugging.

"Even if Erik might be my father?" Meg asked him, her voice cracking.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Raoul," Meg persisted. "He knew my mother, and I remember him saying something on that last morning, something about whatever happened between them 20 years ago. I'm nineteen years old, Raoul. If Erik knew mom in Provence, that means he knew her when she was pregnant. God…Christine is my widowed stepmother," she said, giving an incredulous laugh even as tears slipped from her eyes.

Raoul moved forward and put his arms around her, once again comforting a girl in tears over Erik. He kissed her hair and whispered to her, "Meg, we don't know anything for sure right now. Open the letter and find out. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. Please, it's Christmas, no more tears…"

Meg stepped back and Raoul dropped his arms. She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, embarrassed before Raoul not only for crying but also because she knew her makeup was ruined. She took a few deep breaths, not to mention a few swigs from the champagne bottle. "All right, let's find out what last little secret Erik had to share."

They stepped out of the kitchen to find a place to sit and open the letter, but it was Raoul who noticed first, "Shit, Christine took off," he growled, and turned to Meg. "Three guesses where she's going,"

"Should we follow her? Erik can't hurt her again, but it's already after midnight, she shouldn't be out alone, you know?"

Raoul considered things for a moment. "Mmm. And you're going to run after her in that dress? I'll go get her. She won't be wanting any company when she gets to the chateau, so I'll give her some space at the same time I'm keeping an eye out. I'll bring her back once she's finally made her peace. You stay here and see what that bony bastard had to say."

Meg nodded and took the chair that Christine had used to read her letter.

* * *

Christine had finished Erik's letter and then wasted no time in leaving Raoul's apartment, heading straight in the direction of the Latour château. There was no pause or hesitance in her step; she walked towards Erik as millions make the journey to Mecca. She had not spoken to Raoul or Meg; she had known they would only try to stop her. Christine didn't think to change out of her dress or to exchange her heeled sandals for more sensible walking shoes, the only consideration she took for herself was to take a hooded red cloak as a shield against the biting December winds. 

She walked without hesitance; her stride was direct and confident, her heels clicking steadily on the pavement. Erik's final letter to her, all that he'd wanted to say, all that he'd had to tell her, was clutched in her hand.

He spoke of his lifelong hope for a woman, and of his true love for her, and apologized for the monster that he was in their last days together…Christine had been prepared for everything Erik would have wanted her to understand, but the only words that gave her pause, the only words that seemed out of place in his long, heartfelt letter, was a mention of Ms. Giry.

Her eyes had read and then reread the one line, the one line that explained so much and forever condemned the only mother Christine had ever known…

'…_Claire was right all along- I hadn't wanted to believe her about you and Raoul, but as I saw you with him at the masquerade, I see now that I was a fool to think I could keep you; my happiness was never to be and nothing I did was able to change that- I'm so sorry for everything…_'

Christine took a long, shuddering breath and let it out slowly as she crossed a street. The chateau was close now, less than three blocks away. It had been Ms. Giry to fill Erik's head with ideas of her leaving him. Fueled with doubts and then the visual evidence- the kiss that she and Raoul had shared at the costume party- had proved to be enough to send Erik over the edge and into his jealous rage.

His reasoning justified nothing, but Christine planned to tell him that it had been Claire's interference that had been behind it all.

Fury and sorrow rose as one vile emotion and caught in her throat, nearly bringing Christine to her knees as her stomach twisted with rage and shame.

_'Oh, Erik…'_

They had loved each other, truly; things had been on the mend between them just before the masquerade, before Claire had somehow convinced him that Christine would leave him, abandoning Erik to the loneliness he so dreaded and return to the island as Raoul's woman.

Anger and despair threatened to overwhelm her once she reached the gated entrance to the Latour home. It was once their home, but never again. She and Erik were over, but in his letters of remorse, he'd given Christine a target for her vengeful rage.

Claire had set their downfall into motion, torn them apart for the simple reason that she felt Erik was unforgivable. What had happened between them all those years ago?

Christine gripped the iron gates and rattled the doors, clanging the chains loudly and she felt a scream erupt from her throat.

_'Erik, we lost everything!'_

She sank to her knees before the gates, her grip on the bars weakening as sorrow came over her.

"All the money that dress cost me and here you are on the ground. You've probably ruined it and you looked so lovely,"

Christine whipped around to find Raoul standing over her. Quickly wiping at her tears, she stood up. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, as if standing there out in the freezing Christmas wind was business as usual. "Well, a pretty thing like you shouldn't be out so late. Plus I thought you might need some help breaking in,"

"You sneak in here a lot?" She asked as she followed him around the perimeter of the property.

Raoul hesitated for a moment before continuing on, leading her towards the back wall of the vest property. "I might have come here once, a while back."

"…did you see him?"

Raoul hesitated before answering. "Yeah. We had words."

Christine didn't reply, and Raoul didn't say anything further.

* * *

The back lawn was an endless sea of white, the snow crunching under their feet with each step. Raoul put a hand on her arm. "It's too dark out here, wait for a minute and I'll turn on a light." 

Christine shrugged indifferently as Raoul jogged across the yard.

He left Christine by the fence and trudged across the expansive lawn. His eyes idly took in the snow covered luxury. Even as overgrown as the yard had become, Raoul knew that minimal effort would be needed to bring it all back to the beauty he recalled from his visit in the summer.

Well. The chateau belonged to Christine now; she could do whatever she wished with it.

Raoul passed the algae ridden swimming pool, it's water was murky from neglect, just as the water in the fountain. He'd only been little over half-way across the yard when he began to feel uneasy- the subtle reminder of human instinct.

_'I'm not alone, someone is watching me, I can feel it!'_

A sharp tingle ran down his spine, and Raoul quickly turned towards a winter-barren tree. There was a strange clicking sounded going off; it only grew louder as Raoul got closer. His eyes narrowed as he followed the sound, not sure what to expect, but he needed to satisfy his curiosity.

Raoul made short work of following the sound, and started once he found the source. Erik was perched on one of the several stone benches strewn decoratively about the property. The man was attired in his usual grim, yet exquisitely tailored black suits. A black mask covered his face, for which Raoul was grateful- he didn't want to be confronted with that face ever again, especially not on Christmas day!

He watched for a moment and realized what had been making the clicking sounds; Erik had challenged himself to a one-sided game of Russian roulette. Raoul looked closer. There was an open black briefcase on the ground by Erik's feet and he had a feeling he knew exactly what was inside.

Also, for some reason, playing cards littered the snow all around Erik.

He spun the wheel of the gun, pointed the barrel to him temple, and squeezed the trigger. _Click._ Raoul watched in fascination as Erik repeated his actions five more times. Judging by the amount of snow that had gathered on Erik's shoulders, the man had been at the game for quite a while. _He's insane!_

"I know that you're watching me, Raoul de Chagny,"

Raoul jumped back, both betraying his location and giving Erik the satisfaction of having scared him. The man's black shrouded face turned up to slowly face him, the twin golden eyes nearly glowing in the moonlight. On a certain level, Raoul was relieved to see that at least Erik sounded rational, a much better sign than the last time they'd met.

Erik stood, and he slipped the gun into the holster at his back where, unbeknownst to Raoul, it joined its twin. Erik showed his empty hands and began to move toward him casually. "I had not expected you to come so quickly. My flight has been delayed an hour, but I still had not expected you to arrive until tomorrow's daylight." Erik paused, his eyes gleamed bizarrely behind the mask. "And yet here you stand. Raoul de Chagny. Why are you here? Did you want to learn a card trick?" Immediately, five playing cards-all aces and a Joker- appeared in Erik's left hand.

Raoul frowned and took a step back. Erik was being strange- that is to say, much stranger than usual! "I, um, we received your letters,"

Erik had been bending and spinning the cards in his hand, and only paused slightly, but then continued to do so for a minute more. " _'We _received your letters'. I suppose you don't mean the royal we, do you? No? _She_ was there with you. I understand. Most have Christmas to spend with friends and family and lovers, and some of us are destined for something else."

Erik whipped the ace of hearts at the ground, and Raoul took a step back- they were no ordinary cards, the ace had imbedded itself into the ground at Raoul's feet! "I can't blame you," Erik continued lazily. "Of course, I do not blame you. No, not anymore. Some of us are simply born for something better. If I could choose, certainly I would choose to be handsome like you. I've heard so many arguments over my years of how a face does not determine a life, but shall we consider the evidence? You, born into old wealth, loved by family and friends, received only the best of everything, and look at you now."

Erik flipped another card, the ace of diamonds. This one imbedded itself in the bark of the tree between them. "You have everything while I am soon to return to my career of contract killing. Murderers and rapists, those too politically powerful or rich to get the penalty a blind man can see they've earned. When true justice must be done, I alone am who is called. It's what I did before being enticed to Tejar, of course, but one never forgets their first tricks." He flicked another card at Raoul's feet.

Erik ticked his head to the side. "Forgive me, I talk too much. You all received my letters?"

Raoul swallowed, wary of where Erik might aim the next card. "Yeah, yes. We got them."

"Good. This chateau is hers now, and she is free to do what she will with it. But none of this is hers until daybreak. What I don't understand is why you're here when this house is still my property." Erik flicked another card, causing Raoul to back up again.

He realized now, that Erik had been playing with him, building up to this. He swallowed. The snow would make it too difficult to dodge, and he didn't think that it would make much difference if he managed to dodge the cards at all.

Raoul didn't forget the gun at Erik's back. For all his boasting, not even Raoul was faster than a speeding bullet. His pulse pounded and adrenaline flooded his system- he was afraid, and he was ashamed to feel his hands begin to shake.

"Erik, stop it. You don't have to go back to killing. You could just…start over somewhere, you know? Make a new life!" Raoul said as he stumbled back and landed in the snow. He'd narrowly avoided the fourth cutting card, which had imbedded its corner into the rim of the fountain.

He backed up, but he could see now that Erik wouldn't allow him to escape. The last card was still spinning in his hand. The Joker. He could see the bladed edge flash in the moonlight. "A new life? Yes, it sounds so easy, doesn't it? Another new life, another new name, another new country, another new language to learn. I've been to _every_ country in Europe, I've lived on _five_ continents and I can speak _six_ languages. It doesn't matter where I am when I make a new life, for the face travels with me, and I am very tired!"

Raoul moved to get up, but Erik kneeled down beside him and put his hand over Raoul's chest, holding him down. Erik removed his mask and gently set it down on the stone rim of the fountain. He then took hold of Raoul's chin and forced him to look Erik in the eyes.

"You see me, Raoul? Look me in the eyes and say I can make a new life somewhere else. I didn't even want to come back to France, but I came here because I had to keep her safe. Danger followed us to the island, but I would have been happy to stay there if no one had found us. We were only there a day, but it was bright there, and warm." Erik glanced down at the palm of his hand. "I was happy, but it matters little now. Because I'm here for only an hour more, and you're here…why are you here? You weren't meant to come until daybreak!" Erik said, seeming suddenly confused.

Raoul escaped from Erik's grasp only because he let him go. The two men stood and stared at each other. Raoul found he was not as disturbed by Erik's face as he thought he'd be, but he was no less afraid. He didn't want to fight, much less die here in the snow, so far away from his family and so damn young, before he'd truly achieved anything in life.

Erik wasted no time in reaching to the holsters at his back, and bringing the pistols around to aim at Raoul. "Oh, Jesus!" Raoul cried out. "Stop this, you've got to stop!"

Raoul's voice seemed to be coming from far away.

_'Why am I doing this? I was meant to be gone by now…I'm so sick of the killing, I just want it to be over. I want to see her again and tell her the truth…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…'_

Erik held the pistols out toward Raoul, both barrels aimed for the young man's heart. His spidery fingers made no move toward the triggers. There was a shape moving toward them, something that moved hauntingly familiar. To Erik, it seemed that everything was slowing down, and he lowered his weapons. He could no longer hear Raoul's pleas for his life, though through the haze of the falling snow, the young man's mouth was still moving, just as the figure was moving toward him.

His attention was drawn to the shape that moved past Raoul, until Erik could see it clearly, and the guns slipped harmlessly to the ground from nerveless fingers. The cloaked figure moved before him, and lifted it's snowy hood.

Erik's lips parted but no sound emerged from his throat. Christine's face hovered before him, just as perfect as he remembered her. A delicate oval of skin so fair she was very nearly pale, cheeks pink from the cold added color to her face. Snow scattered bits of white over her ebony hair.

He stared at her, just as she stared at him.

She moved, her hands lifting to him. Christine cupped his face and said his name. "Erik."

He reeled from her touch and the sound of his name on her lips. He remembered her, everything they were, and what he did to her. He was entranced, in a daze, and reached to touch the hands that were cupping his withered cheeks.

Erik fell to his knees before her, gripping the folds of her cloak. He pressed his face to her, desperately, his cheek against her womb. He clung to the velvet folds at her waist; tears escaped his eyes as he felt her gentle hands come over his shoulders, stroking his hair. She repeated his name several times, but Erik could not move or speak.

_**Christine. Christine. Christine.**_

He lifted his head to see her looking down on him, and Erik found the will to finally voice his only thought. "Christine."

He felt a sudden pain, and then everything went dark. The last thing he was aware of was the icy snow against his cheek.


	29. Angry Creatures

There was no mask to shield his face from their eyes.

Raoul had only seen Erik uncovered in the encounter weeks ago where Erik had attacked him. Still, he found himself to be fascinated by the horror of the unconscious man. Slumped in a chair in the dining room, Erik had moved only a few times, and only once had he made a small sound- some kind of odd purr from the back of his throat.

Raoul could see Erik breathing, but at first glance anyone would testify that it was a rotting corpse seated at the table.

Raoul looked at Christine, who was at Erik's side. She was staring at him, transfixed. He watched as Christine brought her hand out to rest on the top of Erik's skull. If he was not mistaken, Erik had responded to her touch, just the slightest of movements. Raoul took a deep breath, irritated to see that, even after everything Erik had done to her, it was obvious to see that Christine still cared for the man.

"What are we going to do with him?" Raoul asked impatiently.

Christine tore her gaze from Erik and looked to Raoul. He could see that tears rimmed her eyes, and he kicked himself for the demanding tone that he'd used.

"I don't know. I mean, he wasn't supposed to be here, the letter said he'd be gone."

"And I'm as disappointed as you are," Raoul said dryly, "But you know what I was asking. I think we should leave. He's no good for you, and frankly I knew that bringing him into the house was trouble, because here you are at his side, forgetting what he did to you, and only remembering what was good. Hell, for all we know, he could have planned the whole thing, knowing that you'd come for him after the receiving your letter,"

Christine swallowed. Everything Raoul was saying made sense. Erik could be very manipulative, especially with her. She owed nothing to him; she and Raoul could leave the chateau and never look back. If Erik were truly all right, he would simply have to live with the disappointment that for once his plans hadn't worked.

But Erik was not all right.

Christine looked at him closely. The snow that had been covering his suit had melted upon coming inside- he was soaked. Erik had been out in the cold without any protection from the elements; he'd lost so much weight that he looked positively emaciated.

No, Erik was not well at all.

_What has he done to himself?_

Christine reached for his hand. His skin was like ice; his fingers as disturbingly thin as ever. She took his one hand into both of hers, trying to warm him. She flashed her eyes at Raoul. "You can go if you want. I'm staying with him."

"What?! Christine, you can't be serious! After all these weeks, you want to go right back to him?" Raoul asked in disbelief. He moved from the foot of the table and came to her side. "How can you forget all that he did to you? Don't you remember coming to me, covered in bruises, with a split lips, crying? I sure as hell do, I never thought I'd see anything like that happen to you- I should kill him right now for-"

"Raoul, please!" Christine cut in. "Stop it, I remember. It happened to _me_, you don't know what I've been through because of him,"

"Oh, yes I do! I've been with you the whole time, haven't I? I was there to listen to your story, and hold you at night when I could hear you crying through the wall. I know what you've been through, I remember everything! How can you tell me that after all that, you want to stay here with him?" Raoul demanded, taking hold of her arms and shaking her, hoping to get some sense into her.

"I just- Raoul, if I don't, then who will?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, "Oh, stop it. If he doesn't have anyone, if he's so alone in the world, did you ever think that maybe it's because he drives people away? Where's Marcel or William? Where's his mother- she lives here, doesn't she?"

"She would poison him if she had the chance," Christine muttered.

"So would I," he bit back at her.

"Raoul, please, I want to stay here with him, just until he wakes up."

"And then what? What if he tries that trick with his voice again? He could have you walk off a cliff and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do to stop him!" Raoul said, pacing slightly in agitation.

Christine sat down in a chair beside the prone man. "I'm staying. If he wants to kill me, it's a chance I'm willing to take."

Raoul rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air, "You're unbelievable!"

She shrugged. "You don't have to tell me twice, I know it already. Besides, Raoul, look at him," Christine said, holding up one of Erik's spidery hands. "He's so weak that he couldn't hope to hurt me physically. If he tries to hypnotize me again, well, I'm wise to that trick. I'll cover my ears if he starts. Please, Raoul, will you leave us alone for a little?"

Raoul rolled his eyes and made a grunting sound of irritation. "All right, fine. I'm calling Meg to tell her that your precious Erik is still here, God only knows why, and then I'm raiding his liquor cabinet. I don't know about you but I could use a drink,"

Christine rolled her eyes slightly as Raoul went into the kitchen and she turned back to Erik. As far as she could tell, he looked as if he was asleep; Raoul's blow hadn't seemed to cause any irreparable damage. Christine wondered if Erik was dreaming of anything pleasant or troubling.

He was completely vulnerable, stripped of all barriers and defenses. She stripped off his wet suit jacket, disturbed to find it heavy with small weapons- more bladed cards, a pocketknife, a tiny spray vial of mace, a small taser gun. There was a cross strap of throwing daggers over his chest, another holster with a smaller gun at his left hip- cleverly hidden under the tails of his shirt. She quickly disarmed him and set everything away, at the end of his table, far out of his reach.

The briefcase they'd brought in from outside had been filled with weapons; smaller pistols, plenty of knives and a journal full of Erik's scribbles- names, places, random words in foreign languages, and there had even been a few pages where Erik had sketched her face. Christine had not shared that last detail with Raoul.

Christine couldn't help but stare at Erik as he remained slumped to the side. It was obvious he'd been starving himself. He was painfully thin and difficult to look at. While his face had been a strange shade of gray, the rest of his body had been more or less normal, in Christine's estimation. He'd been thin and terribly scarred, of course, but wiry. This thing before her was entirely gray, horrific, and very cool to the touch. There were deep scratches all over his body.

_Erik, what have you become?_

She touched his shoulder, ignoring the pull in her chest that urged her to wake him, to have the Erik she remembered return to her. Christine longed for her friend, her love to revive, but he was unresponsive. He could have passed out from hunger in the backyard, he seemed so weak, that would have been logical to her, but Christine had come to learn that, when it came to Erik, there was little use for logic or rationalization.

She went off to a linen closet and then covered Erik's shoulders with a blanket. Erik had not been shivering, but it couldn't have been healthy for his skin to be so cold. Who knew how long Erik had been outside? It might have been hours before Raoul had found him. Christine wanted him warm, just so that he might wake up and explain himself.

_Of course, that's the only reason…_

Raoul came back into the room with a wine bottle tucked under his arm. "I called Meg, she's glad that Erik's all right but she wants to know what the hell is going on. Why would he send out those letters when he's still here…more or less,"

Christine crossed her arms and nodded, not moving from her place at Erik's side. "Well, she's not the only one. Raoul, I'm going to stay with him tonight. I'm going to stay here for as long as it takes to get the answers we deserve," she said in fierce determination.

Raoul sighed, relenting. "There really is no arguing with you sometimes. I swear, you're more of a man than I am! All right, if this what you want,"

"It is,"

"Fine. But listen, I really don't feel comfortable just leaving you here with him. He could wake up any minute and then who knows what he'll do? If you're staying here, then so am I. Let me take a room here, you know, just in case." Raoul reasoned.

Christine nodded. "All right, Raoul, that works,"

"And, one other thing. If you're going to be in here with him, I want a guarantee that he won't be able to hurt you."

She furrowed her brow. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

"You don't think it's a little much?" Christine asked Raoul as he clicked the last lock into place.

Raoul glanced up. "You _are_ aware that he's tried to kill me, aren't you? Twice already, by my last count and you know what they say about the third time being the charm. I'm not taking any chances,"

Christine held her tongue and together they stared down at Erik, who had remained unconscious as Raoul had first tied and then chained him to the chair. The ropes and thin steel chains had been found in the chateau garage; newly purchased, and neither one of them felt it necessary to comment on why Erik would have stocked up on rope.

They both remembered the sight of his golden lassos.

While Christine had put a hand to her mouth, whimpering that Erik would be furious once he woke up, Raoul ignored her completely as he'd chained the prone man immobile.

It had been all he could think of to make sure that Erik remained subdued when he awoke. He had only met with Erik alone that one time in the front of the house, and Raoul rubbed his forearm where the man's rope had bit into his skin.

The slight wound had healed, but a pink ring of healing still remained, the perfect reminder that Erik was anything but the gentle creature Christine had claimed he once was.

No, he wasn't taking any risks with their safety.

"He'll be angry when he wakes up," Christine said dismally.

Raoul growled, "Then let him be angry! I'd rather he was angry than kill us,"

"He wouldn't. He's not an animal," Christine protested weakly.

Raoul rolled his eyes at her. "Well, he's not a man either. Not a normal one, anyway. If you hadn't noticed, he was carrying more weaponry than any soldier and you heard him admit the reason why. I'm sorry, Christine, but it looks like he's thrown that promise he made to you right out the window."

The words hurt, but given the proof at the end of the table- Erik's many weapons- Christine couldn't deny the truth of his words.

Raoul shook his head at the stricken expression on his friend's face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, putting his arms around her. "I'm not trying to hurt you, but you know I wouldn't be saying these things if they weren't true. Don't deny what he's become, Christine…" Raoul sighed heavily and withdrew from her, once again frustrated that his friend was in such pained confusion, and he was again useless to help her.

He smiled awkwardly, "This isn't how I wanted to start off my Christmas, and I know that you're happy to see that Erik is still here, but…Christine, did he ever care for you?"

She took a deep breath and glanced at the still unconscious Erik. "We'll find out when he wakes up. Please, Raoul, leave me with him for a little while,"

He ran a hand through his hair, it had grown longer than he usually wore it. "All right, all right, fine…but I'm checking in here right after I get in touch with Meg, you hear me?"

Christine nodded, suddenly feeling impatient for him to leave the room. "Yes, Raoul. Now, please," she gestured hurriedly to the door.

He threw up his hands and took the bottle with him as he left, closing the door behind himself, heading towards the kitchen to call the missing third of their trio.

Christine turned to Erik. They were alone now, finally.

Christine sat across from the prone man, and for the first time in a very long while, she prayed.

* * *

It was only a short time later when Meg arrived at the chateau, and like Christine, she hadn't bothered to change out of her brilliant Christmas gown. Raoul didn't bother to comment on how odd they all appeared, dressed so elegantly as they stood together in the dining room, staring at Erik.

Upon first laying eyes on him, even in the dim light, Meg couldn't help herself, and gasped, taking a step back. Christine watched Meg's reaction, and understood, finally, how Erik had felt when she had done the exact same thing to him. The realization filled her with a sense of shame and anger at herself- he had loved her so much, and she'd appeared sickened by the very sight of him.

Suddenly upset, and very protective, she grabbed Meg's arm and hissed, "Don't you dare to that again! He was never anything but kind to you, who the hell are you to judge him?!"

Shocked, Raoul stepped forward, "Easy, Christine. Meg didn't mean anything by it- she was just surprised, right Meg?" He asked, turning to the blonde.

She was still staring at Erik, but as Raoul touched her, she broke her eyes from Erik's warped features. "I, um, yeah. Yes. Christine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Christine felt a hot tear fall down her cheek. "Yes, you did. They all did. Please, don't lie to us both. It was the most honest reaction in the world, natural revulsion…" she echoed Erik's words from that night, months before, when they had tried to heal what was between them.

A powerful sob escaped her throat, and Christine quickly fled the room, leaving them all.

"God, I knew this was a mistake! Just coming here has ruined all this progress she's made!" Raoul growled, "Now it'll be back to the constant crying and she'll be withdrawn and she won't talk about anything until I drag it all out of her! You know, she'll only talk to me when she's drunk or when we're in bed. Otherwise she won't say a word,"

Meg sighed, "I know. I tried to talk to her a couple of times but she kept shutting me out! What's it going to take to get through to her?"

Raoul rubbed his face and temples. He would gladly pull out all his hair, if only it would ease his frustrations. "I have no idea. Where do we go from here?"

"You can start by untying me!"

Both Raoul and Meg whipped around to see Erik, fully alert, golden eyes glaring at them.

* * *

For several long moments, they stared at each other, as they had in the snow. His expression was unreadable, as was hers. Emotions stirred frantically, just beneath their skin, it could be seen in their eyes, but neither wanted to be the first to speak, to shatter the silence and move forward.

Crumbling slightly before him, Christine closed her eyes a moment and then blinked quickly, five times, to rid herself of tears. _'I can do this- he is Erik. My hero, my champion, and most of all, my friend…'_

She swallowed, and steeled herself for whatever was to happen next, be it a screaming fight, another attempt as his hypnosis trick or what she hoped for the most- the return of the Erik she knew, and freely admitted to love.

Christine took a quick, deep breath and put a hand into her hair, spearing her fingers through the fall of ebony. "Erik, I want to know everything," she said.

He tilted his head to the side. "Everything?"

Christine shuddered slightly upon hearing his voice again, so clear, free from the muffling effect of his masks. The strange accent on his wonderful voice was especially pleasing, yet dangerous.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, everything. I received your letter," she said, setting it before him, "And you're going to explain every last line to me."

Her voice was fueled by her own determination. It was too late to set things right, she believed, but it was never too late for the truth.

The chateau was dark; the only lights were on in the den, where Raoul and Meg were waiting. Her friends had left the room to give them privacy, but Christine had no doubt that they hadn't ventured far. To spare Erik any further upset, Christine had left the lights off- the quiet reflection of the silver moonlight on the snow coming in through the window was all that gave any illumination.

Erik was tied and chained to the chair, with his back to the window. He was a silhouette, his face in shadow. She could not see him, just as she had never seen him in their happier times together. The gold flames of his eyes gleamed at her, absorbing her face.

He blinked at her, "I wrote it plain enough,"

"Not plain enough for me! Erik, you tell me what Ms. Giry, Claire, told you. You tell me what she told you, what made you believe that I would leave you for Raoul. You tell me, and then I'll tell you the truth."

Erik's head was throbbing from where Raoul had struck him. _'I'll make that little brat pay…'_

"She didn't need to explain, I read your letter, and I saw you. What does it matter now? I destroyed it all, you shouldn't be here- this house is not yet yours, not until daybreak. I shouldn't be here. Christine. Christine, what's the time?"

She blinked at his random tangent, but she answered him nonetheless. "It's almost 3 in the morning," she replied. It was strange, she wasn't tired at all.

Erik's shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment. "Ah, well past time of departure. I've missed my flight."

She raised a brow, amused at their situation despite everything. Here he was, disappointed to have missed his plane, almost as if he were oblivious to being tied and chained to a chair in his own dining room. More out of curiosity than anything else, she asked him, "Where were you going?"

His head was ticking slightly; she remembered that gesture of his. It was strange, the things she remembered about him, almost as strange as the things she missed.

"I wasn't going anywhere, I was going to the airport to intercept a man wanted by police. He's wanted for rape charges- I was going to catch him, as the spider snares the fly. I was going to catch him, and hand him over- not to the police, but to the parents of that young girl. I should have been there…"

Christine frowned, "Erik, what did-"

"Why are you here, Christine?!" He demanded suddenly. "It was over, you are gone from me, and gratefully! The boy took you in, I heard him with Meg," he hissed. Erik then adopted a perfect mimic of Raoul's voice, " _'She'll only talk to me when she's drunk or_ _we're_ _in bed.'_ Why have you all come here? Was it just to show Meg? I should charge you admission for putting me on display like this! Meg was the only one that hadn't seen me- but she's seen me now, and reacted just as you did. You saw her, and didn't like what she made you see- in Little Meg you saw yourself, Christine."

Christine clenched her fists and took a deep breath, cursing herself for allowing a tear to escape.

Erik softened at the sight of her upset. "I'm sorry, Christine. Please, tell me why you've come here."

She quickly rubbed at her eyes, not caring if her makeup smeared over her face. "You know why I came here!" She burst out. "You have to tell me everything!" She cried, not even sure what she wanted to know anymore.

Erik glanced down at the letter he'd written, his own crooked words mocking him. "I thought I'd explained myself perfectly, but as you demand answers, I am only too happy to comply." He bit out. "I wasn't intent to leave France, just to leave this house. It's full of memories I'd rather forget, both the good and the bad. I'd thought you might want the house, but then why would you need it? Raoul has been most generous."

'_He's never going to stop, but I ran from him straight into Raoul's arms and he knows it. There's no reason he should believe me, but I have to try!_'

Christine leaned forward. "Erik. I know there's no way to convince you, but I'm telling you- there was nothing between me and Raoul when I was with you. Nothing! Do you understand? _Think_, Erik, think back. We'd just started to get on the mend, why would I throw everything away?"

"Obviously his charms far outweigh my own."

She shook her head. "No. The only thing Raoul has over you is that he actually _listens_ to me when I'm trying to explain myself."

Erik blinked. "So explain!"

"Please, listen to me, just think about what I'm trying to tell you. Listen to me, and when I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?" She asked.

Her face was intense with determination, and as Erik truly had no choice but to listen to whatever lies she told him, he indulged her. He nodded. "Yes, I will answer you anything that you ask."

"Thank you. I think that Claire is behind this. You said that you read my note. Do you mean the note I left in the kitchen after your message?"

Erik tilted his head to the side. "What message?"

Christine's eyes widened. "You're going to tell me that you never called the house, and never left a message for me with Claire, aren't you?"

He nodded. "If I had called home, wishing to speak with you, I would not have left a message with anyone-"

"Especially not Claire," she finished for him. Christine folded her hands on the polished table surface. "Now, that's interesting, because she said that you had called to house, saying you'd be late and that we ought to go on without you, that you would just meet us at the party. Onto my note, please. You said you read it?"

Erik nodded, his anger growing by the second. "Yes," he rasped in an unrecognizable voice. "Yes. It was so simple- only that you'd gone to the party without me. I went there to find you, I wanted to know why, after the night before…but I saw you, I saw you with him, Christine!"

She looked at him for a moment, knowing that he was close, so close to seeing the truth. "I know what it is you saw, Erik. You saw Raoul and I-"

"Kissing!"

"On the hand, and then on the cheek, am I right?" She demanded. "And then what?"

"And then Claire told me you and he had…reconnected…" Erik finished pitifully. "But you had, hadn't you? Why else would you kiss him just hours after promising yourself to me? I don't understand,"

Christine broke her gaze from him, to look down at the table. "I know you don't. Erik…I admit that I hadn't given much thought to the way you see the world. In Tejar, all I knew was that I had to do whatever it took to get you to take me home. I'm sorry. I know it sounds horrible, but we're to be honest tonight, aren't we? Tonight, if no other."

Erik nodded, but he had nothing to say, so consumed with self-loathing as he was.

Christine continued, "Right. I was a snake- I was determined to manipulate you, to do _whatever you wanted_, so long as you helped me. It's not something I'm proud of, Erik. In that small amount of time, I really did start to like you, and I felt guilty about taking advantage of the quick attachment you placed on me. But what choice did I have? I was alone, facing a fate worse than death- I looked at the facts: you were my only hope, you were a ticket home. I used you."

Erik's head had bowed throughout her explanation. "Again, you would not be the first."

"My feelings didn't change until after I'd woken up in my own room. That suddenly everything I'd promised to you was…was _real_. That you risked your life just to save mine, when you didn't owe anything to me…and what you wanted from me…I was never afraid of you, Erik, and I never really thought of the consequences. I was living in the moment and I enjoyed every second of my time with you. I fell in love with you, Erik."

"Please, stop! Please, Christine, no more, no more…don't remind me of what was good. It pains me to look at you. Your face is a reminder of what I did, but that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Christine frowned for a moment, not knowing what he meant, but then she remembered the photograph she'd taken of herself, naked and freshly abused by him on their last morning together.

She nodded. "Yes. I took that picture so that when you looked at it you would remember what a monster you were to me on that last day. I was angry and I wanted to hurt you. I can only hope that your reasoning was the same."

Erik nodded and looked into her eyes. "Yes. You wore the silks…I just wanted you to be mine, fully mine for one day. Once I'd started, I couldn't stop. That morning…Christine, I don't know what came over me! I know you hate me, but please, I never wanted it to be like that. I thought of killing myself after what I did to you. I've never raped-"

"Don't! Don't say it, Erik." Christine yelled. "We are a mess, this whole thing is one madness after another, but I never did anything with you that morning that was against my will, do you hear me?"

"It doesn't matter! I don't see why you've come to tell this to me now. As you said, it's been one madness after another, and the blame rests on me. I've ruined it, all that was ever between us." Erik took a deep breath. "This is all pointless, Christine."

"Is it?"

"Yes. We're ruined, it doesn't matter how it happened, or why, or by whose interference. As I wrote, I was a fool to think I could keep you." He gave a pathetic laugh, "Look at me, Christine! I truly thought that I could have a real life with you. I was trying my best to be what a husband should, and look what's come of it. I forced you to marry me, it was blackmail. I'm a killer, a thief, a whore-mongering manipulator…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I put you through, for the damage done. You are an innocent."

"I'm anything but," she retorted.

Erik didn't comment. "Why did you come here, Christine? I was meant to be gone by the morning, when you were meant to take over this house. You shouldn't have come so early. It's Christmas, isn't it? You should be with your loved ones, not here with me. Christmas is meant for happiness, I can only bring you more misery."

Christine closed her eyes for a moment. She was suddenly very tired. "I came here to stop you from leaving."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure why. I just…I just wanted you to know the truth. I was never unfaithful to you in our time together. Never." Her eyes clouded as she looked at him, and she turned to leave the room.

Erik bowed his head. "I believe you."

* * *

Christine pulled a blanket over herself and tried to fall asleep on the sofa beside the fireplace. Raoul had tended to the flames for her before going off to the room he'd claimed for the night, three doors down the hallway, across from Meg. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, but how could she hope to sleep when all that was left of the man she loved was in the dining room downstairs, trapped like an animal?

Her mind was exhausted; in fact her heart and mind had been exhausted for weeks. Erik had never been far from her mind, the constant questioning of _why?_. Why had Erik hypnotized her? Why had he so easily believed that she had been planning to leave him, to abandon him for Raoul?

Christine had not understood why he did what he had, but she did remember that he was sorry. Her memories of being his puppet were foggy- it had happened weeks ago, and Christine had tried so hard not to think of it, but despite all of her efforts, after she'd spoken with Erik her memories began to flood back to her.

The man had hypnotized her, and photographed her both naked and clothed. He'd invaded her mind, taken complete control of her. _Such powerful manipulation, done with_ _such ease_.

Christine remembered how she'd felt upon waking up that morning- a deeper fury she'd never felt before, coupled with the cutting pain of sorrow. Christine had trusted Erik, offered everything to him, and in return he had stripped her of her very will.

Her memories and thoughts were tormenting to her.

Christine ran a hand through her hair and felt a tear run down her cheek. What had followed that morning was sex. Rough sex, they had torn each other apart in unrestrained passion, bruising and bloodying each other in wild animal instinct. It could have been left as a simple rutting, but there had been a moment when Erik's eyes had met hers, and a truth had passed between them. She'd kissed him.

It was love, but Erik had been so cruel, and Christine had run.

She looked at the ring that shimmered in the light of the flames- Erik's ring. He'd given it to her as a way to gain his protection, he had wed her. Erik had saved her life and Christine had tried, she'd tried so hard to save his soul. She wondered if it was all too late; what good was it to have found Erik that night in the snow?

If the desire to be good had died within him, then there truly was no point in seeing him. She could just find Raoul and Meg, and they could leave, never come back to this grand house where so much love and pain lived; they could leave Erik tied up, just leave him alone in the dark…

_No! _

She had to believe that her Erik was not beyond reach, that he was still alive, somewhere behind the blank eyes of the…angry creature that he'd become.

With terrible difficulty, Christine eventually fell into a light sleep.

Erik stood over her, watching her with hurt, hungry eyes.

* * *

Christine's mind swam and swirled with dreams both pleasing and cruel. In one moment she was a little girl running on the shore with Raoul and Meg, all of them together and so happy as her father kept watch over them. In the next, she was back in Tejar, a slave destined for the emir's harem, only this time there was no one to stand in between her and the Queen's playful cruelty.

She felt something cold and dry pass over her cheek, and started awake. Her eyes flew open to stare straight into the golden eyes of Erik. His eyes reflected the fire's dancing flames; he'd been kneeling by her side but, startled, he stood and took a step back. Christine could not read his expression.

She was not afraid of him at all, in fact he appeared to be more unnerved with her presence. She sat up and watched as Erik tilted his head to the side, his eyes were examining her gown.

"Erik?"


	30. Talks at Midnight

Christine stared at Erik, standing above her at the end of the sofa. The fire was still blazing before them, and the dancing flames were captured in his eyes. Her heart was pounding from being startled, but Christine was not afraid of him. She never had been.

"Erik? Erik, how did you get in here? Who untied you?" She whispered, confused. For several moments, they watched each other as they had in the dining room, searching each other's eyes for any insights into what the other was thinking.

His head tilted to the side, just slightly, and Erik slowly moved to crouch down on the floor, in the position he'd been in when she'd started awake at his touch. For an instant, he appeared as a strange animal to her.

"I untied myself as soon as I woke up in the dining room." He said simply.

Christine furrowed her brow, "What? No, you were tied up, chained, when we were talking…"

His mouth moved in a way that Christine figured would equate to a smile, "You truly believe I was? No, I untied myself before Raoul and Meg even knew I was awake. I had to; it's plain that no one else would oblige. I hate to be restrained, and it wasn't difficult to get free. No challenge! How is it that Raoul is even able to tie his shoes?"

She shrugged, "He manages. Erik, what are you doing in here?"

He'd been staring at the floor, and was quiet for several moments before lifting his eyes to her. "We spoke enough of our past, Christine. I want you to know that...I believe you, and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to believe you when it mattered most. I cannot allow myself to happiness, you see? Destruction is in my nature." He made a strange, pained sound in the back of his throat. "I cannot even promise your safety, I've proved myself a liar."

"Erik-"

"I only came to ask your intentions for the future," he said quickly. "Do you wish to claim the chateau? Also, when you next see Claire…"

Christine lowered her head. "I don't…I haven't decided on anything yet." She frowned at him, "Will you sit with me?" She asked, indicating the sofa. She didn't like talking to him as he crouched low on the floor before her, it was demeaning to him.

Erik looked up at her, surprised, and moved from the floor to sit up on the sofa beside her. He stared at the fire. "Why are you wearing such a gown?" He asked, after a silence.

Christine looked down at herself. She'd been so exhausted after their exchange in the dining room that she hadn't bothered to look for anything else to wear. The silk sheath still draped over her body, even as the colorful quilt covered her from the waist down.

"We put together a Christmas party," she said absently.

Erik nodded, "Ah. That would explain his tuxedo and little Meg's gown. It must have been an elegant event."

She wondered why it was that Erik would make such small talk. Perhaps, like her, he had spent their time apart longing for the friendship they'd shared more than anything else.

She nodded. "It was. Meg danced with this man, I think he was from Italy, or maybe Greece, and Raoul met a girl, Sophia. Most everyone paired off at the end of the party."

"Did you?" He asked quickly.

She blinked at him. "Would it matter if I did?"

Erik looked away, into the flames, and took a deep breath. "No, I suppose not. That gown is…it's quite beautiful,"

Christine felt heat rise to her face at the compliment- it was a blatant reminder of their past. She raised a hand to her hair, "Um, thank you."

"What is that?" Erik asked.

"Hmm? What's what?"

"That! On your wrist," he pointed.

Christine looked down at her hand and smiled, "Oh, my tattoo. It's a flying dove," she said, moving closer and holding out her hand so that Erik could see.

Without thinking, Erik took her hand into his. Spidery fingertips stroked the ink bird imbedded into her skin.

She'd only meant to show him, in innocence, but all too soon Erik's assessing touch began to take on a deeper meaning. His grip tightened; no longer inspecting her, his fingertips caressed the tender skin, bringing gooseflesh over her body, sending a thrill of aroused recognition up her spine. Christine felt the heat of his proximity come over her- Erik was so close, he who she had loved first as a friend, and then, too late, as a man.

He continued to stroke the delicate flesh there, and against all his wishes, his mind began to wander back to their times together. Christine had been so open with him, allowing him to speak to her, share with her...he hadn't slept well since she'd left. His thoughts were full of torment. The memories of the happiness she'd given to him were the most painful of all.

_'Christine left me, my one friend...but you're back now. Yes. You're back now, please, I'll do anything to fix this...I just want it back!'_

Erik dropped his head to plant a soft, reverent kiss over her wrist.

Her breath hitched at the touch of his warped mouth to her skin. His lips were warm, though the hands that held hers were very cold. He stroked her hand; her inner wrist, the pulse point, the palm, each of her fingers, but he quickly released her. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, urgency in his voice. "I shouldn't have done that. I have no right,"

Christine leaned forward and cupped his face, bringing his lips to hers.

The kiss was hesitant on Erik's part; he felt shocked, but it was his Christine returned to him, and he responded with a painful joy. Erik's arms moved to encircle her as she pressed on, bringing him deeper into the kiss.

_This woman, how can she do this…?_

Christine broke their kiss, and pressed against him, bringing him to lean against the edge of the sofa to accommodate her. Erik breathed deeply, capturing her scent. The kiss had ended, and she did not flee from him; rather, she lay against him, and splayed a hand over his shirt, fidgeting with one of his buttons.

Erik did not ask her why, it would kill him to ruin the moment- she would be well within her rights to leave again, he only wanted to be near her, to hold her. His eyes stung with tears; the presence of his love, of her very reality, filled him with a twisted happiness that was immensely painful.

Christine shifted against him slightly. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"You've become so thin," she remarked as she ran a hand over his chest and waist. "When did you last eat?"

"I'm not sure…what month is it?"

Christine drew back to look into his eyes, "Are you…? Erik, that is not funny!" She cried out, swatting him twice for laughing at her.

"Not funny? Then why are you laughing?" He asked, catching her hands.

"I'm not laughing, shut up." She said, stifling her giggles as he tried tickling her palms. "But really, you're too thin."

Erik quickly grew serious. "As are you. I wasn't going to say anything, but you've grown thin as well."

Christine nodded. "I know. What grief does to the body…"

He stroked her hair, feeling tormented. "I'm sor-"

"Please, don't!" She groaned tiredly. "I'm just…I don't want to talk about it anymore. You know the truth now, and I forgive you for not believing me. I just don't want to talk about it. It's exhausting and I'm just...please, Erik, no more."

"Yes, Christine, as you wish." Erik sighed, and he was quiet for a time.

They breathed in unison, staring at the flames. Christine lay against him again as Erik stroked her hair. It was pleasant; Christine had imagined them together in this way many times, though the circumstances in her fantasy were a far cry from what they were now.

_'This is such a mess...'_

She wanted to shut out the rest of the world, her memories, but it was impossible. Erik's dark, hissing words returned to her. It had been earlier in the night, and he'd been taunting Raoul, but his words were true, and haunting.

"How many did you kill, Erik?" She whispered.

Erik's body stiffened beneath her. "What?"

She moved to face him, unflinching in her acceptance of his bare face. "I heard what you said to Raoul, and your weapons left little to the imagination. How many people have you killed, Erik?"

He frowned at her. "I haven't killed anyone, not since our last day in Tejar."

"Are you lying to me again?"

"No. I admit that my recent activities have not been as…well, as _legal_ as you would want them to be, but I haven't killed anyone. I've more been delivering the guilty to justified ends. I capture them. What happens next is not my concern."

She raised her eyebrows at him incredulously. "You've become a bounty hunter?"

He laughed beneath her, "That's one way of looking at it, yes. Occasionally those I go after are a bit on the difficult side, so you see my need for the weapons."

She shifted her weight over him, thinking over his words. "Erik, how do you do these things?"

"I…none of it has ever come to me easily, Christine. In making that promise to you, I also made a promise to myself: no more blood on my hands. Well. A few altercations came to bloodshed, but no one's died at my hands yet."

_"Yet?"_

"Obviously the future holds much in store- I hadn't expected to see you again. I had planned to be gone by the time you arrived in the day, and then perhaps to leave Paris for good. Maybe go to Strasbourg for a while, or Lyon. I'd also considered leaving France. Possibly go off to Berlin, or maybe London, and spend the rest of my days submitting compositions to the symphonies and opera companies there." He said absently.

Truly, he didn't know what to do now.

'_Christine is here! She came back to me! I'll do anything she wants, anything!' _

Christine considered the alternate life he'd mapped for himself. Erik only wished to be free with his music and art. "It sounds like a dream."

"A dream." Erik repeated, considering. His eyes shined the fire to her, and Erik took her hand. "More a nightmare, as I would exist completely alone- but then there have only been a select few that know of me. One being my mother, who I haven't had contact with since she left, and the other…well, I suppose that would be you."

"There's no one else?"

"You know there isn't."

Christine left it at that, and soon gave in to sleep's relentless pull.

* * *

The room was beautiful, and very warm. Meg stared at the ceiling of the guest room she'd claimed as her own for the night. It was painted, stencils of autumn leaves in shades of gold, red, and violet, swirling as if tossed by the wind. It had been windy the night before, and bitterly cold. 

She blinked. It was now Christmas morning.

Meg sat up and listened to the house. She couldn't hear either Raoul or Christine, and certainly not the bizarre accent of Erik.

_'I've never seen anything like him before,'_ she thought to herself. '_His face, he truly does look dead!'_

She banished the remembered sight of Erik's face from her mind, and looked over at the letter that he'd written to her. How many times had she read it? A hundred? A thousand?

Meg got off the bed and left the room, feeling slightly ridiculous still being dressed in her gown from the night before. She hadn't had much of a choice. Her friends had needed her, she hadn't waited to change her clothes, she hadn't hesitated to go after them.

_'I wish I'd changed back at Raoul's,'_ she thought now in irritation. Meg stepped down the hall, in the direction opposite of the chateau dining room, where Erik was still tied and chained.

She peeked into the room Raoul had taken, and she found him sleeping. Meg shrugged to herself- there was no need to wake him just yet. Hadn't he earned the right to sleep in?

Meg moved farther down the hall, to the game room that Christine had taken. She remembered that Christine had refused to retake her bed in the master suite, she'd taken a sofa in the den instead, close to the fireplace.

Her friend was still asleep there, and if Meg was not mistaken, Christine appeared much more relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted. She wondered what she and Erik had spoken of during their time alone together the night before.

Meg closed the door and wondered what to do with herself. She had no doubt that Erik was awake- he was near inhuman to her now that she'd seen his face. She was shamed by her thoughts, but he was almost a _creature_ in her eyes.

_'He's like a talking animal…God, how can I think that? I can't think of him so cruelly, even though I hate him for what he put Christine through, but...if Christine can forgive him then so can I.'_

She shook her head and put a hand into her hair, ruffling it. As far as she knew, Erik was still in the dining room, and she might not get another chance to speak with him alone. It would be foolish to waste an opportunity.

* * *

Helping herself to Christine's closet, Meg changed out of her gown and into a simple pair of clean jeans and a cream sweater. She hoped that Christine didn't mind. 

After she'd steeled her nerves, Meg pushed open the door to the dining room and for a full minute, she stared at the empty chair where Erik had been tied the night before. The rope and the chains were on the table, separated and coiled neatly on the polished surface.

She looked to the end of the table. His weapons were gone.

Panic was mounting in her chest, spinning her mind and quickening her pulse. She went to the table and touched the ropes, just to be sure that she hadn't hallucinated his escape. No such luck.

'_Oh, God, where is he? What happened? How did he get out?'_

She touched her temple and tried to calm down. _'All right, relax. If he's gone, maybe it's a good thing…or maybe he's still here! No, no, don't think that way. He might be ugly and crazy and dangerous, but Erik wouldn't try to hurt us, would he…?_'

She started toward the door to go wake Raoul, but she stopped with one foot over the threshold. There was a voice somewhere, very close, singing…

It was unlike anything she'd ever heard before, as if the voice of man, woman and child had come together to create such frighteningly unique tones. The voice was close, and invading her mind.

She felt strange, suddenly it seemed that her mind was numb, caught in the state between being alert and in dreams. Meg felt her mind almost sinking- her panic dissipated and she felt light, enchanted and happy.

The music, a simple tune sang by so lovely a voice, was drowning her fear and replacing it with something else, something free of fear and anger, replacing her upset with a deep, content calm.

Meg turned and looked out the dining room window; Erik was outside in the snow, watching her.


	31. A New Beginning

Meg wanted to leave.

More than anything, she'd wanted to run down the hallway and throw open Raoul's bedroom door to tell him that somehow, Erik had escaped the ropes and chains. She did- she had been ready to charge out of the dining room, terrified for all of them.

How had she come to be in the backyard?

There had been a voice, haunting and beautiful, so alluring… 

It had gone silent now, and with it, the thick haze of comfort and longing. Meg's mind cleared, and as her senses returned, so did her fear. She looked around, confused. The pristine snow surrounded her, enveloping every surface. The sky was clear, the sun reflected brightly in the ice- she squinted and frowned.

_How did I get out here? Didn't I see- Erik!_

She whipped around, ready to bolt back toward the house to sound a warning, but Erik stood directly behind her to block her path. Meg gasped loudly and backed away. The man was imposing, despite his face being covered by another mask.

"Erik!"

"Don't run away, little Meg. I know what your mother must have told you, but I'm not an animal. You might hate me, but I won't hurt you."

She glared at him. "I'm supposed to believe you? After everything you've done to Christine, I find it hard to believe that you'd hesitate to hurt me." She said coldly.

The mask tilted down slightly, his posture wilted. "You are right. There is nothing I can say that will have Christine trust me as she once did, it is foolish for me to hope otherwise with you."

He hadn't moved, but Meg was on her guard and kept moving back, away from him. Erik watched her, and despite everything he smiled behind the mask.

_The girl has spirit. She fears me, but she is so loyal to Christine. It would have served me well to have had a friend like her when I truly needed one…_

Erik showed her his open hands. "I'll not hurt you,"

Meg found that she was becoming more irritated with him than afraid. "I don't care what you say, Erik! You've already proven yourself as a liar- you used that trick of your voice to lure me outside,"

He nodded, "Yes, I did. I'm sorry, but I knew that once you found me untied you would wake the rest of the house and I didn't want that. I went to see Christine last night. I only wanted to watch her sleep, but I couldn't help touching her. She woke up, and we talked."

"You went into her _room?_ What the- how long have you been untied?" She demanded.

"I untied myself before you even arrived here last night. I know that Christine has told Raoul about my past. And I know that he has, in turn, told you. And you, little Meg, should not have thought that a few ropes paired with some old bike chains would equate to a prison strong enough to hold me." He said dryly.

"You had a better idea? We weren't exactly prepared for anything that happened last night- you weren't even supposed to be here!"

Erik shrugged in an offhand sort of way, as if it was all just small talk between passing neighbors. "My flight was delayed. I told Raoul. Besides that, Christine wasn't supposed to claim the chateau until daybreak- you lot showed up at midnight! I wasn't expecting guests,"

"I'll bet you weren't," Meg snapped. "Look, I don't even know who you are. I've spoken to you twice before, and you were pretending both times. I don't hate you, but don't think I trust you either. I'm only here because I want to know why you wrote this," she said, bringing his letter out of her pocket.

"My letter!"

"Yes, your letter. It's…Erik, you wrote some very nice things to me, but I'm not getting the answers I want."

"Answers?"

"Yes, answers! You tell me what happened between you and my mother to make you hate each other so much, you tell me right now, damn it! I've waited all my life, and I want to know the truth,"

Erik nodded. "Yes. I know what you want to know…" He took a deep breath, "But I'll not tell you anything until you stop behaving in such a way. Your body language is screaming what you cannot say. You're afraid of me! I said I wouldn't hurt you, but you have no reason to believe me. Would you feel more comfortable if you had a weapon?"

Meg frowned as she watched Erik check himself, his pockets and under his suit jacket. "What are you looking for?"

Erik shook his head. "That damn Raoul, he took my weapons last night. I came outside looking for my cards, but the snow has ruined them. I could have given you a pistol since you're so sure I'll attack you, but here, you'll have to settle for a throwing star." He said as he withdrew the tiny silver weapon.

Carefully, he handed it to her.

Meg stared down at the star; it fit easily in her palm, reflecting the clear bright sun. The blades were strong, silver and smooth. She glanced back up at him, not knowing how to interpret his actions. Truly, she wondered how Christine had dealt with him in all the months they were together. He was so bizarre, and all he spoke was nonsense!

"Um, thanks, it's…pretty…" She said awkwardly.

Erik nodded. "It is. Resembles a snowflake, does it not? Now, walk with me, just around the yard, and I will explain all about the past I share with you and your mother."

* * *

It had been a long night for Christine, and when she awoke the next morning she felt amazed that she'd been able to sleep at all. She hadn't thought that she'd be back in Erik's home again, and after reading his letter she certainly hadn't thought that he would have been there when they had arrived.

There had been a period of time after she'd first come to stay with Raoul when she had longed for Erik to come find her. Christine had wanted him to plead for her to return to him, to apologize for everything he had done to her. She had wanted things back to the way they were before that damn costume party, or better yet, before Giselle had thrown the door open on them.

Christine had never felt so wonderful as she had when Erik would sing to her, or when they would stay up for hours on end, talking into the night. She couldn't deny that she had immensely enjoyed the kisses they'd shared, and those few precious moments when they were close to being lovers before the invasion of the light.

That creature of rage Erik had become after that night was not the man she knew. Christine tried to understand him, but even now his life before meeting her was full of holes, a great blank mystery that he'd kept hidden away from her. In his anger and belief of her betrayal, he'd attacked her and made her into his slave for a day.

What had followed that morning was the product of both their fury and pent up desire.

She didn't hold it against him, though Erik had been rough, she hadn't been gentle herself. She had left because she'd been angry, she'd left because she'd been hurt. She hadn't left because she hadn't loved him.

Christine loved Erik as much as she ever had before. She wanted things to be back to the way they were, but she knew in her heart that moving back into his home wouldn't change the past. She couldn't just come back as if nothing had happened. How could they fall back into their loving routines? Would Erik stay now that she had forgiven him, and expect her to be his wife again? To sing with him, talk with him, kiss him, sleep with him?

Christine folded the blanket and replaced it in the hall closet. She looked down at herself, still wearing her beautiful gown from the night before. After treading through the snow and sleeping in it, the gown looked about as exhausted as Christine felt. She wanted to change her clothes, and she wanted to be alone for a few moments more.

An idea had occurred to her, and plans were already forming in her mind.

The plans painted a picture of her future- it would be lonely, but Christine felt that it would be the best thing for them to start over completely.

She ascended the stairs, idly wondering where Erik was; if he had returned to the dining room to continue pretending he was tied up, or if he'd taken to wandering the house as he had in their time together. Christine had no reason to think that her wonderful closet would not be intact- surely there would be at least a pair of jeans and a shirt for her to wear for the day?

Christine blinked tiredly as she made her way down the hall on the third floor towards what was once their bedroom. She hesitated slightly, but steeled her nerve and opened the door. The bedroom didn't look much changed from what she remembered; the décor was still sensual and comforting, the bed as luxurious as it ever was.

Erik had been expecting to leave, and never to return again to this grand house. He had dutifully cleaned every room, effectively stripping all the personal touches they'd brought in to make it their home.

She shook her head and blinked rapidly to rid herself of tears. _'What we were…we can't go back now, but if Erik is willing to make a fresh start…'_

She swallowed and moved further into the room, heading towards the closet. All of the clothes that Erik had bought for her were still there, hanging neatly, clean and pressed as they had been when first purchased. Christine wasted no time in changing into a pair of jeans and one of the sweaters that she hadn't had the chance to wear. She splashed cold water over her face and put her hair into a long high ponytail.

Christine felt only a little better, more herself, but she was still uneasy. She had to speak to Erik, and she didn't know how she would explain her decision to her friends, but she had to try.

_This is what's best, for all of us…_

* * *

Christine stepped into the dining room, unsurprised to find it empty. She frowned slightly, wondering where Erik could be. Movement from the backyard caught her eye, and she raised her brows to see Erik and Meg walking side by side in the snow. A strange pang of jealousy shot through her; what could they have to say to each other when there was still so much more to be said between them?

She wasted no time in leaving the house to approach them.

Erik was the first to notice her, and he immediately broke from Meg to go to her. "Good morning, Christine." He greeted her eagerly.

Christine swallowed, glancing back and forth between he and Meg. "Hello, Erik. What's going on?"

Erik's masked face tilted in a way that was achingly familiar to her, and he laced his fingers together like a child set to pray. "Oh, Meg had questions for me this morning. Everyone wants to know about their letter, it seems. Raoul will be next, I suppose, though his letter was more to the point."

"What questions? I don't understand,"

Erik shook his head, "We've been talking most of the morning, but I'll let Meg explain. It has so much to do with her. I will tell you my part later, if she will permit me. Can I get you anything?"

Christine frowned, "Um, no, I'm fine. Meg?"

The petite blonde moved forward with a strange expression on her face, though she didn't appear nervous around Erik in the slightest. Christine inwardly sighed with relief. If Meg was comfortable around him, Erik would be more willing to interact with them.

"It's all right, Christine. I just had to talk to him, that's all."

Christine nodded and Meg, perhaps feeling the tension, quickly headed into the house to leave them alone. Erik watched as Meg made a quick beat back into the house before turning to the young woman that had been dropped into his life, effectively changing everything he was and ever will be.

His pulse quickened at the sight of her expectant face. "Christine."

She blinked, "Oh, Erik. I need to talk to you,"

"Talk?"

"Yes. I decided something this morning and I want to know what you think of it." She said, gesturing towards the door that Meg had entered a moment before. Erik nodded and followed her through the snow and back into the house.

They reentered the dining room and Christine sat at the table. Erik took the seat where he'd been tied the night before, though now the rope and chains were resting on the dark polished surface. He couldn't help himself from staring at her; he had been committed to leaving this house and never seeing her again. After what he had done to her, giving her a grand home had seemed the least he could do as some form of apology.

He had not been prepared for her the night before; he felt that he had become addicted to her presence in his life, and when she'd run from him he had gone through a sort of withdrawal. To have her so suddenly thrust back upon him had been a shock to his system.

_She is so wonderful!_

Where had there ever been another woman like Christine? So beautiful, so intelligent and kind, so vibrant and alive? Erik had never experienced such a love before- he'd been destroyed when she had left, and he felt that he might shatter now that she had come back into his life.

Likewise, Christine watched Erik. He was the only man she'd ever truly loved. Raoul in her mind was the best mistake of her life- their puppy love was something they laughed about now. Erik was no laughing matter, though objectively she knew that their situation was borderline insane. Here was the man who had saved her life by forcing her into a marriage; he'd opened his home to her and treated her like a queen, giving her everything and demanding from her nothing.

She'd found a friend in Erik, a man rather than the ghostly creature that he believed himself to be. This man had loved her, this man had hurt her. Christine had thought herself strong and cold enough to turn her back on everything they'd shared. She thought she might take Raoul up on his offer to work for his company, bury herself in anything she could to take her mind off of Erik…

_So much for planning! How could I have ever thought to forget about you, Erik…?_

"You said that you'd made a decision, Christine," Erik prodded.

Christine shook her head, "I, um, yes I did. Erik, I want to ask you something."

"And you'll be wanting an honest answer, I suppose."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him, "If it's not too much trouble,"

"You can ask me anything."

She took a deep breath. "All right, then. Well, I want to know what you want to do,"

"What I want to do?" He repeated, obviously confused.

Christine nodded, and held her hands out to him. Without hesitation, Erik took her hands into his, gently stroking his thumbs over her upturned palms. "Yes, Erik. Obviously we weren't expecting to see each other last night. In all honesty, I hadn't thought I'd see you again…I hadn't _wanted_ to see you again. I don't know about you, but I've been trying to forget about everything since the day I left you."

His cold hands tightened over hers, greedily absorbing her warmth. "I admit, I've been trying to forget you, albeit in my own way."

"Now that we're back here, and the air has been cleared a little, I'm asking you again. What do you want to do?" Christine asked, slightly insistent.

The mask tilted slightly. "I just want you to be happy. That's really all I've ever wanted,"

"That's not all and we both know it. You wanted more from me from the very beginning,"

He nodded. "You are right. I wanted…I still want you with me. Why bother to lie anymore? I don't care to deprive you of the truth any longer. I want you to come back, I want you in my house and in my bed. I want my wife," he said. His voice was neither demanding nor petulant- rather, he spoke all honesty, simple truths fell with each word.

She stroked his hands in a loving way, as she often had when they'd been talking in bed. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I was afraid that you would go on with your plan to leave. Erik, I want what we had…do you realize that we were happy together for months, but everything fell apart within the space of a week?"

There was a strange moaning sigh that came from behind the mask. "Yes, I know. I see now that it was no fault of yours. If I had just…I feel if I'd shown you my face before that night, things would have been better."

Christine furrowed her brow, "What do you mean?"

"If I hadn't hidden from you for so long things would have been different between us. We wouldn't have become lovers, though we might have remained friends. I blame myself. I hid from you, I couldn't trust you. I was unfaithful and resentful, suspicious and manipulative…I was horrible to you, and I am sorry. What I want now does not matter."

"It matters, Erik. What you want matters to me, because I want what we had back too. You think it was easy to forget everything we shared? All the fun we had? No. I've been miserable without you. I want it back, Erik, but I want a fresh start."

He glanced down to their intertwined hands and he stroked her tattooed dove with the pad of his forefinger. "A fresh start? Tell me, Christine, tell me what I can do for you. Anything you want."

She nodded. "I want to be on my own, for a while, that's all. I can't come back to live with you and pretend that nothing ever happened between us, but I also won't disrespect you by continuing to live with Raoul. I want to find a place of my own and start over with you. What do you think?"

Golden eyes stared at her for several long moments before Erik lifted her hands and bent his head, pressing the cold, still lips of his mask to her inner wrist. "Christine, I can't think of a better idea."


	32. Dinner At 8

There had been much to take care of, many details to go over. Being the holiday season, not to mention being such short notice, there were few options left for Christine to find a place to call her own. Raoul was not in favor of her intention to reunite with Erik, however long it may take. He didn't know how his friend could be so forgiving after what Erik had done, but it spoke volumes of how much she had grown in the past year.

It seemed that Raoul's pretty little tomboy had managed to surprise them all by becoming a woman in her time with the crazed man she claimed to love.

Raoul didn't want her to leave, and he didn't want her with Erik, but like any friend, he did want her to be happy. "Erik makes me happy, Raoul. Or, he did before everything fell down around us, things were going so well. I just want to give us both a fresh start, you can understand that, can't you?" She asked.

They had all left the chateau and were back at Raoul's apartment, which was still in a state of chaos after the party from the night before. He tossed his rumpled jacket onto the couch beside Meg, who had been eerily quiet since she'd spoken with Erik earlier that morning. "Yes, I can understand that you just want to get away from everyone for a while and be on your own, I just don't want you to make the same mistake twice with him."

Christine cocked an eyebrow, "And what mistake did I make?"

"Trusting him, for one!" Raoul returned. "Letting him back into your head, for another. Forgive me if I sound insensitive to Erik, but the man is dangerous- he's tried to kill me twice, you saw him last night." He reminded her, recalling for himself Erik's threatening card tricks.

Christine nodded. "I know. I know! But…but, Raoul, I really think that he was just toying with you," she said lamely.

"Oh, you mean he was just playing? Somehow, that's not comforting. I can help you find another place, you'll have one of our other corporate lofts by the end of the day. Christine, I'm just afraid for you, I really am." He said in genuine concern. Raoul turned to Meg, "What do you think about all of this?"

The blonde had been staring at her lap, obviously in intent thought. "Oh, well, Christine…Erik told me a few things…whatever he's done in the past, he said that he wants to leave everything there. He said he knows that you don't trust him, but also that he'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

Christine nodded. "I'd already forgiven him."

Raoul stepped in, "Meg, what _else_ did Erik tell you this morning?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

Christine noticed the secretive tension between the two of them, but she dismissed it. "Raoul, could you really find me a place to stay?"

He turned back to her and nodded, a hint of teasing humor, "Didn't I once offer you to buy a house? Of course I can find a place for you, I'm Raoul de Chagny, aren't I?"

Christine couldn't help it, she had to laugh.

* * *

The corporate loft was wonderful, much more than she could have ever hoped for. It was located in an upscale, almost trendy area of the city, on the fifth floor of a landmark building. The loft was large for being a one-bedroom floorplan, though it included all of the necessary amenities such as a washer, a dryer and several different appliances.

The place was furnished although, being a corporate loft, it also came along with the corporate sense of décor. Christine looked around at the bare, beige walls and wondered what she had gotten herself into.

Was this the right choice- to get away from both Erik and Raoul's influence so that she could listen to her own voice?

She didn't worry about Raoul- most likely he would be mad at her for a while, but eventually he would try to see things through her eyes and he would see that there really was no other solution. Christine needed to get away from everything in order to sort out what she truly wanted.

Paris was covered in a fresh coat of falling snow, the view from the balcony was beautiful. It was nearing the end of the day, nearing the end of Christmas. Surely it had been a Christmas unlike any other, but rather than relief or happiness, Christine now felt full of anxiety. Erik had promised that he would abandon his dangerous occupation for her, and that he would stay in Paris until she made one last, final decision.

What did Erik want? Christine already knew.

He wanted her forgiveness, for things to be back to the way they were before the night Giselle had revealed his face to her. Truly, it was what Christine longed for as well, but how could they turn back time? After what Erik had done, Christine could forgive him, but she wasn't sure that she could trust him in the way that she had before.

Christine could admit that she still loved him, she had kissed his bare face just the night before. It hadn't been a mistake; she had kissed him because she'd wanted to feel what she had felt for months in the dark. His face was terrible, but in spending so much time talking with him, Christine felt that she had grown accustomed. He had a face unlike any other, but he no longer frightened or disgusted her.

He was still the man he had always been, she loved him for himself.

Christine put her head in her hands and took a deep breath, wondering what to do. Meg was staying with Raoul, they had dropped her off at the loft mere minutes ago.

"I hope you like it, this was all we could come up with at such short notice." Raoul had said as he'd unlocked the door and lead them all inside. Christine set her suitcase down beside the plain gray sofa. "We use places like these to house our clients that come from abroad, this way they won't have to stay in a hotel and it's a great way to keep the bond strong between our partners." He looked around the space and shrugged. "I think it could use a woman's touch,"

Meg nodded, "Well, Christine, you always had an interest in interior design. You can think of this place as practice."

Christine nodded. "It's wonderful, Raoul. I don't know how I can ever-"

He brought up a hand, "You could repay me by forgetting all about Erik,"

Christine shot him a look.

He disagreed with her completely, but he was in no position to force them apart. It seemed that Claire had put in enough effort on that front already. "No? Fine, then. Do what you want. Christmas is almost over, and I could use a woman's touch myself," he smiled suggestively.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Obviously none of what's happened today has kept Raoul's attention for too long."

He shrugged, "Sophia won't be in Paris forever, ladies. Am I not entitled to my share of fun?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, Raoul the Casanova, we know!" She groused as she began pushing Raoul towards the door. "We'll let you get settled in, Christine, before Raoul's charm is all used up on us, rather than on that redhead."

Christine laughed at her friends as they left, and then laughed again as she remembered the times they had shared together as children while home in their little island community.

How much time had passed since then till now?

The muted, neutral colors of the loft were vaguely depressing, and night was falling over the city. She moved to her suitcase and took it into the bedroom. Once inside, she began to unpack her clothes and the few personal items she'd been able to take from her father's house. Her most treasured of possessions was a photo album. When she and Erik had left, she'd taken it with her in case she never had the chance to come back for her things. Too much time had passed, she didn't know what had become of their house, but it was too late to worry over it now.

The happy faces of her parents and other friends smiled at her from the photographs. Meg, Raoul and Christine grinned, the happiest of children.

She flipped through, absorbed in the memories of her past.

It was preferable over the unanswered questions of her future.

* * *

It was three days before Christine felt she was ready to see Erik again. It had been a slow, searing agony to him. Christine had explained that she would find a place of her own to live, that she would leave Raoul's loft in search of space for herself. She had said that she needed time alone to sort out her feelings.

Erik understood, but it killed him nonetheless.

He wanted her back. Having her in the house with him had been a painful reminder of all that he had done. She claimed to forgive him, but he could see the caution in her eyes. Forgiveness had been easy to gain, her trust would be more difficult. Erik had spent his time wandering in and out of the various rooms of the chateau, waiting to hear word from the girl.

'_I've put everything into her hands, I can only hope that she will not destroy me as I had destroyed her…_'

With nothing else to do, Erik had spent long hours in his music room. Piano, violin, percussion…he let his music flow in such a way that he had been unable to do since Christine had left him. He knew that she would contact him soon, and as she said, they would start over and take things slowly. Erik wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, but he assumed that she wanted to wipe the slate clean and give them the chance at a real courtship.

He'd never courted before, and Erik feared making a fool of himself, but what choice was there? After what he had done, he deserved nothing less than hatred. Erik would do whatever Christine would ask of him, no matter the cost to himself.

He was seated at the piano bench, puzzling over a section. The cordless phone rang on the bench beside him and Erik scrambled to answer it. "Hello?"

There was a long pause on the other end, but then, "Erik, it's Christine."

"Oh! Christine, how are you? Is everything all right?" He asked. Erik hated how excited he sounded, but he couldn't help himself for worrying. It had been several days without so much as a word.

There was a touch of humor in her voice as she answered him, "Everything's fine, Erik. Raoul helped me find a new place and I've spent the last few days just settling in."

"Settling in?"

"You know, just adding a few personal touches. It was so boring when I first got in, but it looks all right now. What are you doing tonight?"

Erik tilted his head slightly to the side. "I don't know, I hadn't thought. I've been doing some music these past few days, I'd figured on finishing up the piano piece…"

He furrowed his brow, uncertain why he could hear her laughing on the other line. "Christine?"

"Well, if you're too busy with your music to come over and have dinner with me, that's perfectly all right,"

"You're teasing me!"

Christine laughed again, a sound so welcome to his starved ear. To have her playing with him again, even if only over the phone line, was a warming reminder of their friendship. That she was initiating such playfulness gave him a spark of hope that they might be able to mend, if given enough time…

"Yes, I'm always teasing you. Now, are you going to come over later tonight?" She asked.

"Of course I will. Tell me about your new place. Is it a house, or an apartment?" He was eager to keep her on the line, he wanted to hear her voice- it would sustain him until he could see her again.

Christine glanced around the loft, taking a small vase and filling it with water for the flowering orchids she'd bought from the street vendors a few blocks away. Business was booming for them, even in the winter. "It's a loft apartment. More space than I need, really, but it's great here. I went shopping for groceries. Would pasta be all right for you?" She asked, relaxing at the ease with which they were talking to each other.

It spoke of how their dinner would go, at least. Christine wanted things to be light, she wanted to forget the anger and betrayal she felt at what he had done in their final days together. The time would come when they would have to speak of it, but all Christine wanted was for them to have a nice meal together.

That wasn't hoping for too much, was it?

"Anything you make would be fine, I'm sure."

She smiled, "Great, we can eat out on the balcony."

"That does sound wonderful," Erik agreed. "Would you…I can bring something, if you like,"

Christine went into her kitchen to assess if she was missing anything. "I think I have everything covered, but you can bring a bottle of wine if you want,"

"I will! I would do anything for you," he affirmed.

Christine paused, absorbing his words. "I know you would."

There was a silence between them, and in that silence there was nothing but the truth between them.

"Where can I find you?" Erik asked.

Christine gave him her new address and the time that their dinner would be ready.

She hoped that he wouldn't be late.


	33. A Night In

Erik arrived early, just as Christine had expected. She opened her door to find him offering more than just wine, his arms were loaded with dessert and a large bouquet of flowers as well.

She smiled and stepped aside to let him in, "Erik, you didn't have to bring all this!"

Christine noticed that he was wearing a mask, the smooth black face was a nice match to his black suit. She decided to wait a while before asking him to remove it. His eyes were brighter than they were the last time they saw each other, twin amber flames danced as they absorbed the sight of her.

She blushed subtly as Erik looked her over. Christine had thought it to be a special night; not their first date by any means- in their time together they had explored everything Paris had to offer, museums, films, plays, operas…after everything, they had never eaten a meal together.

Erik had been adamant that they never dine together, as he would have had to remove his mask.

Tonight would mark the first occasion in which they would share a meal with their faces uncovered, all truth between them. Christine felt it to be special, yet another instance in which she felt determined to prove to Erik that she was unbothered by his face.

Admttedly, she had dressed up for the occasion, as Erik obviously had. Her dress was an elegant shade of midnight blue, sleekly skimming her body. Not the silk or satin that Erik had bought for her, the dress was simple cotton, it's price far lower than that of any of his gifts. It was modest, a few years old already but thankfully it still looked new, as she'd never had much of an occasion to wear it.

As Erik liked, she'd left her hair down, but true to form, Christine had lined her eyes and put a bit of color on her lips. Erik's ring was still on her finger; she'd hardly given it a second thought that night as she had dabbed perfume onto her pulse points and fastened a black choker around her neck.

Her chest warmed when Erik's eyes smiled at her. "You look lovely,"

Her heart fluttered, but Christine wanted things to be light between them, at least for the first hour. It wouldn't do to get caught up in memories of how things were between them before their final days. "Oh, um, thank you. You look nice too, Erik. Is that suit new?"

"It is. Where shall I put these?" He asked, meaning the flowers and dessert.

"I'm sorry, just, um, follow me. I have to give you the grand tour, don't I?" She asked, feeling slightly nervous, almost giddy to have him with her.

Erik followed Christine into the kitchen and set everything down on the counter. She shrugged, "Well, it's a kitchen. Not as impressive as the chateau, but it's great for me." She motioned to the oven, where their dinner was waiting. "I knew you'd be here early, so I started cooking early. It'll stay nice and hot until we're done with the tour," she winked at him and moved into the living room.

Erik thought the loft was plain but for the personal touches Christine had mentioned to him over the telephone earlier in the day. One could hardly be surprised, as it had been a standby corporate holding. Several framed pictures lined the mantle over her fireplace; a few store-bought pictures added some much needed color to the taupe walls. A colorful vase of lilies rested atop her low glass coffee table.

Christine then led him over to the balcony that wrapped the loft. "Great view, isn't it?"

Erik nodded, as he looked out over snow covered, starlit Paris. The apartment was wonderful, and it seemed to him that Christine could be intent on a long stay. It hurt him to think that, in the end, she might decide on staying to enjoy her independence without him.

He didn't want his selfishness to hold her back, but how could he face a life without her in it? Nothing had been decided yet; Erik knew he had to make things work with her. "Yes, it is beautiful. This is a very nice loft, Christine. It's fitting for you."

She gave him a slow smile. "Thank you, Erik. I like it here too, but I'm not planning on staying here forever."

'_Do you mean…?_'

Erik wanted to know what she meant, what her intentions were; he wanted to know everything, but all he could manage was, "Oh."

Christine laughed at him, nudging his ribs. "You're articulate as ever! Come on, let's eat. You said pasta was all right, so I made baked spaghetti."

Erik felt a wave of trepidation sweep over him- to eat with Christine he would have to remove his mask. But she had seen his bare face before, she'd touched his cheeks, she'd kissed him!

_'She said I don't upset her, that she's never been afraid of me…this is just dinner, I'll do whatever it takes so that she comes back to me. Well, perhaps if she just keeps the lights dimmed low she won't be quite so repulsed…'_

Erik followed Christine to the kitchen and assisted her in removing the dish from the oven and bringing it to the table. They served each other and Erik uncorked the wine he'd brought for the night. He poured for them both and then took the chair across from her.

The food was steaming on his plate, the aroma causing him to swoon slightly. Erik realized that he hadn't eaten in several days; he'd been sustaining himself on wine, water and coffee lately, but at the sight and scent of the dish, his appetite returned with a vengeance.

His hands fidgeted as he looked at his fork and then his wineglass- the mask reached to his chin, he would have no choice but to remove it if he wanted to eat with Christine. And he did! He wanted nothing more than to share the meal with her, but old habits died hard- he had not eaten with another person in years, and certainly not under these circumstances!

Still, Erik was determined. It was Christine who had invited him to share the meal, she knew his face, and she had known when she'd made the phone call that he would have to bare his face to eat with her.

Erik took a deep breath and removed his mask, setting it on the table beside his plate. He slowly faced Christine, almost defying her to gasp at him. She only smiled and urged him, "Stop stalling! I know you're terrified, but I promise you, I'm a decent cook. You won't be poisoned- who knows? You might even like it!"

Erik blinked at her, then lifted his fork and took a bite.

"So how is it?" She asked him eagerly.

"Magnificent. Truly, you're a wonderful cook, Christine. I have a rival in the kitchen, it seems,"

"Come back in a few days and we'll have a cook-off," she joked.

Erik felt himself relax as Christine teased him; it felt to him that nothing had changed- it was as if they had only parted company for a time, rather than the horrible way things ended between them so late that summer. He felt her foot bump against his under the table; heat flooded his cheeks.

Erik swallowed with a sudden nervous tension. "I'll come back and make anything you'd like," he said in earnest.

Christine raised her brows, "You'd make me anything I want? I've always had a taste for sweets. All right, I'll return the favor and make you your favorite. What do you have a taste for, Erik?"

'_Your lips,_' he wanted to say. Instead, "I don't have a favorite food, just as I don't have a favorite song or piece of music- everything is so different that it's impossible to choose one from everything that's offered…but if I had to pick, I do love _duck l'orange_…" Erik said with a small smile.

"That's very rich,"

"I know, I haven't had it for over twenty years, but it was memorable. A delicious meal, but more than that, it was the first time a woman had ever cooked for me…" Erik said, seeming for a moment to drift off into his memory.

Christine watched as his eyes glazed and stared toward the distant Paris skyline. It hit her, a deep pang in her chest, that if Erik had not written to her on Christmas, it was likely that she never would have seen him again. He would have been a brief insanity of her life, resigned to her memory alone.

What would have become of them if they hadn't reunited?

She didn't want to think of what a generic, mundane life she would have faced if she and Erik had never been given their second chance- to think that their last day in the chateau might have been their last memory of each other…

_"You owed that to me, Christine."_

Christine blinked the thought away and glanced down to see Erik's hand over hers. She looked up, he was looking at her with an expression that she assumed to be concern. It was difficult for her to interpret his facial expressions, but she knew his voice first and foremost. "Christine, are you all right?"

She blinked again, realizing that her eyes had become wet from her morose thoughts. "Oh, yes, Erik, I'm all right." She looked at his plate. "Oh, you've finished,"

"Yes, it was delicious. As I said, you are a talented chef,"

She shrugged and moved to clear his plate. "I wasn't always so talented. Once when we were younger, Meg and I made a pitcher of lemonade, but we didn't know that you have to add sugar! It was horrible, from then on I decided that I would learn to cook. I'm not talented, I'm just determined."

Erik followed her into the kitchen; he felt at once both bold and timid. Hands tensing at his sides, he made the decision to touch her. It was that dress of hers; the midnight blue created such a contrast against her porcelain shoulders...he remembered the feel of her skin, the taste of it.

Erik was searching for limits from her; Christine was in complete control of how things would go between them, she had held the upper hand in their relationship from the start. Erik only wished to know what was allowed; how far would be too far for her, and if she would permit him any affection towards her at all.

He reached for her as she put their plates into the sink.

Christine stilled at the sensation of cool fingertips following the curve of her shoulders. Erik's hands rested over her; he was directly behind her, watching her posture and waiting for her reaction. He waited, and Christine did not push him away. If he was not mistaken, she seemed to lean further into his hold for just a moment before she turned to face him. Erik's hands remained over the curve of her shoulders, but he didn't dare advance further.

Christine smiled at him, and reached to put her hands over his. Her heat traveled through his arms, suffusing his body. She swallowed and Erik could see faint color bloom in her cheeks. "Dinner's over, but the night isn't. Will you take a walk with me before dessert?"

Erik released her shoulders and took her hands into his. "Yes, of course. I would like to explore your new neighborhood," he agreed.

Christine smiled as she brushed past him to reach for her coat. She felt her confidence return as they fell back into their past roles; she felt playful and wanted to tease him, while Erik seemed pleased just to be with her, as he had in their time together before.

"You want to explore the neighborhood? Why?"

Erik shrugged. "I might like to come to this area, maybe buy you a gift before I next come for dinner,"

Christine slipped into her coat and watched as Erik turned away from her for a moment to replace his mask. He turned toward her and offered her his arm. She took it and smiled as he led her into the bright, beautiful cold.

* * *

The streets were icy, halting traffic, and the sidewalks crunched with new snow beneath their feet. For a while, they were silent. Christine held Erik's hand, their fingers were laced- he was no longer cold; his hand was warm in hers. She wondered when she should bring up their past. The night had been pleasant so far, and she had to marvel at the great change in Erik, from the timid creature he was in Tejar to the man that walked with her now. 

He was once an unloved, untouched man…she remembered the first night they spent together; Erik had had such a small, noble plea. He'd wanted to hold her, that was all. Christine was responsible for the changes in him- she'd pushed Erik for affection, it was thanks to her that he'd gained the confidence in himself to touch her, to kiss…

Erik knew her mouth. He knew the size and fullness of her lips, the ridges of her teeth and the movement of her tongue. It shamed him to know that hers was not the only body he had known, but Christine was the first woman that had ever touched his lips. She was the only woman that had held him, loved him. _Beautiful._ He'd craved her in their separation; he craved her even now as they walked.

Erik knew Christine, and he knew that she wanted to question him about his past, both with her and before they had met. She wanted to know about Claire, and no doubt she wanted to discuss those last two horrible days in the chateau.

Erik dreaded speaking with her, but he knew that it could not be put off much longer. If he wanted to move forward with her- and he did, more than anything- he would need to swallow what little remained of his pride and explain everything to her.

"I saw Meg today," he started uneasily.

Christine turned to him, surprised, "You did? When?"

"A little while after you called to invite me over. She came to the door and I served her lemonade in the music room. I didn't drink with her, I wore my mask. Little Meg is still nervous around me, but I understand that I am not the easiest man to get along with. Did you know she thought I was her father?" Erik asked, detached amusement in his voice.

Christine stopped and turned to him, "What? Why would she think that?"

The golden flames flickered behind the mask, Erik was blinking rapidly; Christine recognized that bit of body language as the precursor to a difficult truth. A strange dread settled in her stomach as she waited for him to answer her.

"Because of the past I share with Claire. No, I am not Meg's father. I had thought I'd be her namesake, but her mother reneged on a promise."

Christine's eyes were wide. "What are you-? Erik, go back to the beginning, tell me everything,"

Erik lifted and dropped his narrow shoulders carefully as they reached the end of her street and as one they turned back, heading again towards her borrowed loft. He was silent for a time, attempting to organize his thoughts and memories from twenty years past.

"When I left Paris, I headed south. I just wanted to see how different people lived, and perhaps prove my mother wrong. That maybe I could find a place where I was tolerated, even accepted, it presented itself as a sort of challenge. I wanted to show Giselle that I was as worthy of affection as anyone. Provence was beautiful," Erik said distantly.

Christine walked beside him, still keeping him grounded with her by clasping his hand.

The wind was beginning to pick up, throwing more snow and bitter cold towards them. It became a silent agreement that Erik's story would continue once they were back inside, and warm.

Erik led Christine by the hand against the force of the strong, icy winds. To his dismay, a light rain had picked up, leaving them both bitterly cold and damp by the time they reached her door.

Christine laughed, genuine and carefree, even as her dark eye makeup ran tracks down her face. "Well, at least we've had a night to remember!" She said once they'd both gratefully stepped inside. Christine shrugged out of her coat and groaned at the wet spots peppering her dress- several inches of the bottom hem were soaked!

Erik shivered as she closed and locked the door behind them. "Y-yes, memorable. Christine, you're freezing," he said as he brushed his fingertips over her arm, raising gooseflesh on her skin.

She shivered, "I know, but so are you. Let me go get changed into something dry and I'll see if I have anything that you could wear." She caught herself, "Not that I have a collection of men's clothes or anything, but I have plenty of big t-shirts that I sleep in when it's cold."

"No, please. Don't worry about me- I've dodged bullets, I'm nowhere near as wet as you. Go change, Christine, I'll start a fire for you," Erik said, motioning to the fireplace. She hadn't even thought of using it yet.

Christine shrugged, unable to argue- they didn't have all night, and she couldn't very well expect him to continue explaining his past while she shivered and dripped on the floor. Erik watched as Christine hastily departed to her room before he turned his attention to the fire grate.

* * *

Christine groaned at the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara tracks ran down her face, along the sides of her nose, reminiscent of a cheetah. Her dress was uncomfortably damp and cold, so she had no choice but to shed it. She slipped it onto a hanger and put it in the bathroom so that it might hang and dry- she would wash it in the morning. 

She didn't want to keep Erik waiting too long, so she went to the dresser and pulled out a night set- a seagreen camisole and shorts. Erik had seen her naked before, but Christine thought it might be immodest to go to him now dressed as she was, with the way things were between them. Her white bathrobe was slipped over her shoulders- she didn't belt it, however. Erik had seen her in night sets before, but there was no need to appear frumpy.

Christine washed her face and brushed out her hair again, hoping to regain some semblance of beauty in his eyes.

When she emerged from her room, she found Erik on the floor, facing the fire. He's stripped off his jacket and put it beside the grate to dry. His mask was on the floor beside him.

Christine moved into the room and came close to him. Erik reached to replace his mask, but Christine stopped him. "Don't wear it when we're together, Erik. There's no need for it anymore."

Being so close to the fire, his eyes were lit from within, two orbs of pure gold. She could see him swallow, but he did as she asked and set the mask back down on the floor.

Christine settled beside him and for awhile they simply sat, staring into the flames. Erik reached to take her hand into his, "I am not Meg's father, though Claire had hoped that I might stay with her and assume the role."

"Well, if it's not you, then who is Meg's father?" Christine asked.

Erik shrugged beside her, "I don't know his name, only that Claire did not love him, and never told him that she'd chosen to have his child. I believe she called her circumstance 'one night's mistake'. I met her in a grape vineyard one afternoon- I wasn't causing any trouble, was only exploring. She was walking a trail through the vineyard and didn't hesitate to ask after me. We became friends, in a strange way."

Christine moved closer to him as he told his story, "What was she like?"

"Mmm. She wasn't as…_bitter_ as she's become. I don't think that came until later, until after I left. I only knew her for six months. I'd never known a pregnant woman before- it was fascinating to watch her body change, always growing larger with the baby inside. It was good between us, up until the end. I liked being the man in her life, I felt that I had finally found purpose. She lived in a poor neighborhood, I provided a few things for her and I paid for her hospital needs- Claire promised me that once it was born, she would name the child after me." Erik said, recalling the broken promise.

"You mean Meg's name would have been _Erik?"_

"Or maybe Erika, if Claire had only kept her promise. She had made plans to leave Provence and asked that I go with her, to start a life with her and the baby girl."

Christine rested her cheek on Erik's shoulder, genuinely curious. "Why didn't you, Erik? I mean, she was offering you a new start, a real family."

He reached over and stroked her hair, delighting as it slipped through his fingers. "I was tempted, but what kind of a father would I have made? I was…I was a different man then, Christine. I'd killed for self-defense already; my face had been revealed and I'd been attacked. It was…easier than I thought it to be. Even then I was afraid of what I was becoming- I couldn't bear the thought of being a danger to Claire and her baby."

"So you left them," Christine whispered beside him.

Erik nodded, "Yes. It hurt to walk away more than I thought it would. Seven days after the baby was born, Claire approached me and tried again to convince me to stay. She begged, and took my mask- she had not seen my face in all the time we'd been together. I think you can understand how we finally parted company,"

Erik's voice had become slightly hoarse as he recalled the loss of what might have been. Claire's scream seemed to echo throughout his mind, that painful reminder of his past.

Christine blinked back tears for Erik, hating herself more than ever for the way she had reacted to his face that night. She, of all people who should have accepted him as he was.

"You see now why we hate each other…"

She nodded, "I'm sorry, Erik,"

"You don't have to be sorry, it's all in the past and-"

Christine surged toward him, gripping his shirt and burying her face into his chest. "No, Erik, I'm sorry for that night- I shouldn't have been afraid of you, it shouldn't have mattered to me!" She cried.

Erik felt confused, but he put his arms over her and stroked her hair. "Christine, I told you, I'm not angry about that anymore. When you saw me…it wasn't your fault. What I've put you through, what I did was far worse! I can't even say that I didn't want to hurt you, because I did! I was furious and I was desperate to keep you with me, nevermind what you wanted." He said, feeling misery return to him.

"I wasn't going to leave you for Raoul. He's one of my best friends, but I love you!" She cried into him.

"I didn't know how to believe you, I couldn't understand how you could love me! There is no comparison between Raoul and I, I never should have doubted you...I made you a puppet for a day, and I regret it all. You were right, I humiliated you."

"If you wanted to hurt me, why did you apologize to me that night?" Christine asked as she drew back from him, far enough that she was able to look into his face. She wanted to see his expression; to learn his every facial gesture and nuance that made Erik who he was.

His eyes widened slightly, his thin lips quirked slightly. "You remember that?"

"Yes. I was furious with you that morning, but I still remembered that you were sorry for doing it. If you were sorry, Erik, why didn't you end the trance?" She asked, remembering how it had felt to be enthralled by the man, to be completely under his control.

He sighed heavily. Shame was coming over him, so powerfully that he wanted nothing more than to stand up and walk away- why was it that she was asking so many difficult questions? "I…I thought it was our last day together, and until Christmas, I had been right. I'd thought that you would be yourself- the Christine that you had been before laying eyes on my face. You were not. Under the trance you were…empty. I couldn't pull you out of it; even as an empty shell, I wanted you to stay. I am a horrible man...I'm so sorry, Christine." Erik implored, clutching at her hands, desperate for her.

Christine took a deep breath, holding his hands and then stroking his cheek. "I forgive you, Erik. I forgave you on Christmas. I just...I wanted to hear you explain it all in your own words. Thank you."

Erik lowered his head and felt Christine touch his hair. "Erik, look at me,"

Obediently, he looked up and felt the world fall away as Christine kissed him.


	34. Great Progress

Erik pulled from Christine, turning away from her. Her softness was painful, her forgiveness a sharp twist in his chest. A groan escaped his throat; Erik put a hand over his heart to steady himself.

"Erik, what's the matter?" Christine asked.

Her eyes widened as she saw that he was holding his chest, "Oh, God…Erik, are you having a heart attack?" She demanded as she pulled him back to face her.

He shivered, "No, it's not an attack. You say you forgive me, but they're just words, my love. You don't know what I have done-"

Christine reached forward to put a hand over his misshapen mouth. "I know enough, Erik! Do you really think I want you to sit here and describe everything you've done in the past to me? You told me enough in Tejar. You told Meg that you wanted to leave your past where it was, behind you, so that you could move forward. Why are you stopping now?" She demanded.

Erik put his hands over hers, "You need to know the truth about me, about everything I've done! I can't allow you to go on thinking of me the way you do."

Christine was irritated with him, his need to take two steps back for every step forward. She only wanted things back the way they were before that night she'd seen his face- she wanted her friend and husband back. Erik had killed before his time in Tejar, he'd admitted as much, and she refused to let her thoughts linger on what perverse violence he may have been a part of there as the Queen's bloody pet.

"Erik, you already told me about the killing and the…other things. Please, don't bring all that back again. It was part of your past, which is a part of you." She reached forward to bring him into her arms, stroking his back. "You're so angry, Erik. I'll never be able to truly understand what the world has done to you…no matter what I do, it will never be enough."

He tried to pull away again, but she held fast to him. "No, Christine, you are the most wonderful-"

She scoffed, "No, if I was wonderful you never would have run away from me…or rather, you never would have gone to the Red Light."

"Please! That…it was a horrible, selfish act. I wanted to kill myself, and I nearly killed her! Never again, please, Christine…" Erik said quickly, his body giving a hard shudder.

Christine held him tight so that he could not move away from her- she refused to let him hide away. Erik was right, there could be no more secrets between them, no matter how painful.

They were madness incarnate, but Christine was as desperate for him as he was for her.

_'We can reclaim what we had, we have to. We can do it, Erik, just stay with me, and don't make me run from you again…'_

* * *

The original plan to take things slow had gone far out the window.

Christine had succeeded in having light, teasing conversation at the start of their evening. They had taken the tour of her new loft; they had spoken of the food, the weather, film and music.

_Warm, pleasant, and safe…_

It was when they'd been alone in the icy, starlit streets of Paris that Erik's immense gravity had taken over their night together. He'd spoken of his past, both with her and without…Erik had gone into deeper detail with all that he'd tried so hard to keep secret from her.

He'd steeled himself for Christine's revulsion, for her very justified anger once he told her of his nights in the Red Light- he'd earned her fists and claws, but rather than berate him, rather than attack him, Christine had instead taken a deep breath and told him that she forgave him.

_After everything, how can she offer me comfort? She is mad!_

Her voice had been reassuring, but there was no hiding the hurt in her eyes.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked her quietly.

They were together on the sofa before the fire. Rather than allow him to hold her, Christine sat beside him on the couch, facing him, with her legs tucked beneath her. He wanted to hold her, but Erik knew that one false move would spell an even greater disaster for them.

Christine had been watching him all throughout the retelling of his past, her jade eyes sparked gold thanks to the flame; her gaze was cautious, searching. He could see the betrayal she felt towards him when he mentioned the Red Light, the humiliation and anger as he recounted the day he'd played puppet master…

"No, you don't have to leave Erik. I actually want you to stay, and sleep with me the way we used to."

He regarded her for a moment, absorbing her face as if it had been decades, rather than months that had separated them. Christine, she was his source for inspiration, his muse, his love. She knew everything now; in defiance of his own secretive nature, Erik had left no stone unturned.

After all he'd told her, after everything he had done to her, she would ask him to stay.

The world was a mad place, and there was no greater insanity than what Christine had just asked of him.

Christine held out her hand for him, Erik felt his heart break with love as she led him towards her bedroom.

* * *

The bedroom had started off as plain as the rest of the loft, generic as any hotel suite. As part of the settling process, Christine had added more than a personal touch or two. She'd replaced the gray and beige sheets on the bed with bright India patterns of gold and red, adding a thick comforter to match.

There were more vases in this room as well; a deep blue pitcher on the top of her dresser held mauve tulips, while a smaller red tube vase on the nightstand held a single white daisy. Had she been missing the chateaux gardens? Is that why she appeared so fixated on surrounding herself with florals?

There was a framed picture of a blue sailboat hanging just over the bed.

"That came with the room, it's not one of the pictures I added," Christine said awkwardly from somewhere behind him.

Erik turned to her, nervous, slightly wringing his hands. "This reminds me of the first night I asked to sleep beside you."

She nodded, "I remember. You said you just wanted to hold me, you were shaking like a leaf!" She recalled with a smile, her playful nature making a swift return. "Erik, I don't want to go on as if nothing happened tonight, but I also don't want what happened in your past to hold us back," she said with all frankness.

Christine shed her white robe, baring more of herself to him as she readied for bed. The strap of her camisole slipped off her shoulder, taunting him.

Erik had self-control, but Christine's forgiveness and the familiarity between them plunged him into physical boldness. He did not hesitate to reach forward and correct her strap, allowing his hand to linger over the curve of her shoulder as he had earlier in the evening.

He could not stop his fingers from idling on her skin, absorbing her heat and softness. His golden eyes found her emeralds in the dim light, "I want to move forward with you, Christine. There's nohing I want more in the entire world. I…now that you know everything, I still can't believe that you want me here," he told her, taking one of her hands into his.

Christine pulled him into her arms, holding him close for a moment, enjoying the feel of him against her. "Believe it, Erik," she said. "I want to be with you, I love you."

It was still a painful pleasure to hear her say the words.

"Christine…may I hold you?" Erik asked, recalling their first night together.

Christine laughed at him, full and happy, before throwing herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Erik allowed himself to stumble backwards onto her bed with her above him.

It had been too long since they'd laughed together.

* * *

Under the covers, Erik held her against him with an arm around her waist while his other hand stroked her hair. Christine had been resting her face over his chest, but she looked up to glare mockingly at him. "How can I fall asleep if you keep touching my hair?"

It was dark in the bedroom now, too dark for her to see the smile on his misshapen lips, though she could hear it in his voice. "I'm sorry, I just realized how much I missed being in bed with you. Also, you know how I love the feel of your hair."

She shifted against him. "I missed you every night, you know. There were some nights that Raoul would sleep beside me, but it wasn't the same." She lifted her hand to skim over his bare chest. "You're still too thin, Erik."

He decided to ignore the comment of Raoul sharing her bed. "Tonight was my first meal in a while, but I'll be back to normal soon." He reassured her as his hand left her hair to rest over the curve of her backside.

Christine laughed, "I'll have to invite you over more often. Before you came over, I hadn't even known how to start the fire, I'm still not used to this place yet."

Erik nodded, considering her words. "There's no reason that you should have to. The chateaux awaits you, and if you would prefer, I'd arrange one of the guest bedrooms for you."

Christine shook her head. "No, Erik. Going slow obviously didn't work, but I still want us to live apart for a little while. I just…it's too soon to be that close to you again, can you understand that?"

He held her closer. "Considering how you came to live with me in the first place, taking things at a normal pace would seem glacial in comparison. I want you back with me, but if you want to stay here for a time, I won't try to stop you. I like your loft, Christine, you have a talent for adding beauty and warmth." Erik said idly as he stroked her again.

He only had to think of his own life to know the truth of his words.

* * *

Four months had passed.

Christine and Erik continued in their strange courtship; continuing now with a renewed, deeper trust. Sometimes they would have dinner at her loft, other times Erik would welcome her back to the chateaux.

Often they would revisit their favorite sights- the fountains and other structures that Erik had designed; the theater; the botanical gardens; a film festival for Christine's birthday; and on one memorable occasion, Erik had arranged a trip to the Paris zoo- she'd fallen in love with the zebras and elephants, while Erik preferred the anacondas and macaws.

They slept beside each other with their every meeting, though Christine declined reentering the master suite with him at the chateaux. Simply, she wasn't ready to go there with him again.

Erik understood, and they'd slept in a guestroom instead.

He watched her as she slept beside him, beautiful in the darkness. They had spent the evening walking through the city, enjoying the blooming sights of spring after their candlelit dinner- he'd wanted the night to be romantic; it was their anniversary after all.

One year since it had all started.

It felt that he had lived an entire lifetime in their year together; a life of celebration and mourning. She had come back to him- after what he had done, with so many sins set against him, Christine had come back.

Another man might take advantage of her forgiveness- Erik would not.

He refused to let his temper take control again; his jealousy, irrational and consuming, had driven Christine away for months. By a miracle, she had emerged from the snow to hold him, to kiss him again.

Nothing he could do would ever be enough to make her understand the depth of his love for her. Erik could not explain it to her in words, not even his music was enough to fully convey what she meant to him.

Only tonight, as he'd kissed her, did Christine see it in his eyes.

The intensity in his gaze, the passion.

_Erik loved her._


	35. To End On A High Note

Christine's eyes lazily took in the watercolor landscapes as she steadily made her way through a corridor of the gallery. With the inheritance left by her father, Christine had been left in a comfortable financial position- thanks to Raoul, she wasn't paying rent on the loft, and her living expenses extended only to groceries, clothing and the occasional entertainment.

She had sought out a job more to keep socially active than for the money; she wanted to meet new people and learn new artistic techniques. She loved Erik, but it simply wasn't healthy to have her world revolve around him. They had both gone in pursuit of their respective interests- while she chose to work at the gallery, Erik had begun to compose and sell his music scores, becoming successful in his own right.

She was proud of him, she was proud of both of them.

Christine took her place behind the front desk and arranged the morning paperwork. It wasn't the _Louvre_, but she adored the private gallery. She felt that it kept her grounded, and she had met many interesting people in her time there.

The phone rang and Christine hit the speaker button as she opened a file. "Regency Gallery," she greeted.

"Good morning, Christine,"

Startled, Christine lifted the receiver to her ear. "Erik, hello!"

He laughed a bit on the other end. "I'm sorry to call you at work, I know your manager doesn't like it. Today I had to make an exception."

Christine shook her head, "Don't worry about that, the boss isn't even on the floor."

"Even so, I won't keep you long. Simply, I wanted to invite you over tonight." Erik explained, a slight eagerness in his voice.

Christine felt a light fluttering in her stomach. "I…yes, of course I'll come see you. I missed you, it's good to hear your voice again!"

"Wonderful girl. I just got back a few hours ago, and I have a few surprises in store for you tonight." Erik confided.

Christine smiled. "Oh, good surprises?"

"Yes, only the best. I'm glad you are coming, I was…worried that after so much time apart you might…"

Erik had been gone for over a week, away on some kind of business. He hadn't gone into details when he'd told her he was planning to leave, Christine had assumed that he'd left to negotiate the sale of a composition.

Christine raised her brows.

_Does he honestly think...?_

"Erik, you worry too much, do you know that?" Christine laughed. "I yours forever and everything's fine! Stop worrying, the sky won't fall today. I'll be over at…say, 8?"

There was embarassed relief in his voice. "You know me too well, don't you? You are right, as always. I must learn to relax, I suppose. Yes, 8. This is good. I will see you tonight, Christine."

She smiled and hung up the phone.

* * *

"So you're going to see Erik tonight?" 

Christine glanced at Meg's reflection in her bedroom mirror. "Yes. I haven't seen him in over an entire week, he was away for business," she explained.

Christine had just stepped from the shower when she'd heard the doorbell- Meg had stopped by since she'd been in the neighborhood, and insisted that Christine come with her to dinner. Currently, she was sitting on the end of her friend's bed, watching as Christine prepared for the night's "date" with her husband.

Meg rolled her eyes slightly as she watched Christine agonize over her eyeliner like some love-struck teen. Well, obviously Christine was in love with Erik, and while Meg could respect that, she still couldn't see how Christine could bring herself to love the man.

_Christine once told me that she fell in love with Erik himself, not the package that he came in. He's not so bad, really. I'll just have to spend a little more time with him to understand…_

Meg slipped off her pretty shoes and adjusted the skirt of her sundress.

"I do like that dress on you, Meg," Christine said as she brushed on a coat of mascara. A slow, clever smile spread over her face. "I'm sure that your mother will love it."

Meg's wide eyes and shocked expression told Christine all that she needed to know. "Don't look so surprised, Meg. I wasn't sure at first, but all the signs of a set-up are in place here. You, showing up here unannounced, trying to convince me to go out tonight with you instead of Erik, and that dress of yours sealed the deal. How long has she been in Paris?"

Meg recovered her wits and blushed furiously. "All right, fine! You had me at 'hello', didn't you? Erik's cleverness must be contagious."

"This has nothing to do with Erik. My cleverness is my own. Now, out with it, if you don't mind." Christine smirked, fully enjoying her witty victory.

Meg sighed, "She arrived yesterday, she's staying at a hotel near Center Square. She asked that I bring you with me to dinner…she wants to apologize, Christine."

Christine turned back to the mirror and looked herself over in the reflection. Her dress was lightweight jersey, a violet shade just a touch lighter than that of the silks she'd first worn in Tejar. It skimmed her body and hit just above her knees, perfectly appropriate for a summer night.

_Erik will love it_, she thought before turning back to Meg.

"Meg, I do love you, and I love your mother. She was like a mother to me as we were growing up, you know that. I want her to be happy, and I accept her apology. Pass on my love to her, but I will not be joining her for dinner tonight or any other night." There was a level of certainty in Christine's voice that Meg had rarely heard before.

"Christine?"

"I have nothing to say to her, Meg. It's as simple as that. I hope you two have a wonderful meal. Buy her a drink on me, take her to a show. Make sure she enjoys Paris while she's here, but I'm done." Christine glanced over to the clock on the wall. "I have to go meet Erik now or I'll be late. I'll have lunch with you and Raoul tomorrow. Good night Meg."

Meg nodded, "All right, Christine. If you're sure."

Christine hugged her friend, "I'm sorry, but I am sure."

* * *

It wasn't in Christine's nature to be so coldly dismissive, especially to the people she treasured above all else in the world. Meg had been her friend since she could first recall; they were closer than sisters and wouldn't have had it any other way. 

Christine loved Meg, but her mother's manipulations had caused hellish damage to both she and Erik. Of course, Christine didn't blame Claire for Erik's explosive madness- she had forgiven him, and she forgave Claire, but simply, there was nothing that she had to say.

It would be naïve of her to think that Erik and Claire could forgive each other and retain their places in her life. No, Christine was far beyond that kind of wishful thinking. It would be a choice, and she loved Erik as a friend, a man, a husband.

There really wasn't any choice at all.

"Oh, Christine, you're early tonight," Erik greeted her excitedly at the door.

He was dressed in his customary dark suit, his face covered by a plain satin mask. She hadn't seen him in over a week, she had missed him more than she realized.

Christine moved forward and put her arms around him, breathing in his scent, resting her cheek over his shoulder. The thoughts that she'd been wrestling with fell away when he touched her, and it was then that she knew...

They stood for a moment, simply holding each other. She felt Erik's hands at her waist, drawing up to stroke her hair.

_He loved her so. _

"I missed you, Christine. Are you all right?" He asked her.

Christine pulled from his arms. "Everything is fine, Erik."

His golden eyes flickered at her from behind his mask. There was concern in his voice when he spoke. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe you."

Christine smiled and rolled her eyes affectionately. "You can see right through me, can't you?"

She walked further into the house, into the front salon, tossing her purse onto a chair. Erik followed her inside the room and strode to the side table, where a chilled bottle of champagne awaited. "Yes, I can," replied Erik as he poured. "It's a skill that's been useful to me. You don't have to tell if you don't want to, I won't pry."

Christine took a flute glass from him and raised her brow. "Champagne? Are you celebrating something?"

"No. _We_ are. I missed you, Christine, even while you were with me- I was surrounded by you, but still so lonely." He said thoughtfully, lightly brushing her arm with his fingertips.

She frowned, "I wasn't with you, Erik. We haven't seen each other in over a week."

"It seemed ages to me! Your pictures don't do you justice." Erik said absently.

Christine snapped her fingers, calling him back to the present. "Erik, what on earth are you talking about? What have you been doing while you were away?"

The man turned to her and ticked his head slightly, the golden eyes shining to her in the soft light. "I went back to find you- I worried that everything would be gone, but it was all there! Come with me, I want to see your face," he said quickly, reaching for her hands.

Christine set down her glass and allowed Erik to lead her upstairs to the third floor of his chateau, to one of the larger open rooms. He paused at the doorway and turned to her. "I would do anything for you. You know that, don't you?"

She smiled, both excited and confused over his behavior. It wouldn't do to stand there and question him; she wanted to know what had Erik so eager. Christine reached forward and put her hands on his shoulders, delighted as she felt him shiver under her touch. "I know it, Erik. You've already done everything for me."

His eyes closed in satisfied pleasure, and he took her hands into his own, bringing them to the lips of his mask. "Not everything, not yet."

Erik opened the door and lead Christine into the room.

He paused in front of her, watching her face, her eyes, as she looked about her.

There it was- confusion, recognition, understanding…_joy._

"Erik!"

He watched in triumph, sharing in her happiness as she moved away from him to more closely examine the treasures of her past recovered from the island. Nearly everything was there, everything she'd been forced to leave behind.

Christine felt hot, stinging tears in her eyes as she saw the paintings, the photographs and furniture from her home- she'd never thought she would see any of it again. Her heart lurched as she put her hands on what was once her father's favorite chair; she absorbed its reality, the return of her past.

There was a carved chest her grandfather had made by hand; she'd used it to store her most precious memories. Christine moved to it and lifted the lid, sobbing as her eyes took in her own baby clothes, school medals, favored dolls and a smaller photo album that showcased pictures of her parents when they had barely been any older than Christine was now.

Erik stood off to the side, unsure of what he could say. It had not been difficult to have everything released from the custody of the tiny community's police impound, but it had been hellish having everything brought to Paris on time. The chest that Christine was sorting through with such reverence had only arrived an hour before she did!

The girl was crying now, smiling. Erik had never cried from happiness before, though since meeting Christine, he had been very close. He wrung his hands together, fidgeting slightly with nervous energy.

Did she want to be left alone with her possessions? Should he go to her or continue to stand by?

"Erik, this is…thank you so much…" Christine sobbed.

He glanced down to see her staring up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor. He cleared his throat and brought out his handkerchief, moving to kneel down beside her. Carefully, he dabbed away her tears, cupping her face.

"It was nothing, Christine. This is all for you." Erik whispered to her.

The girl brought her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "You are amazing. I love you, Erik. Not just for this, I mean, I've loved you for a long time."

Erik closed his eyes with the pleasure of her words, and he stroked her hair. He didn't say anything, he felt he didn't have to.

Christine continued, "I love you, I love you, Erik, but I don't want to do this any more."

He pulled back to look at her, "Christine?"

"I've been missing you- not just when you left Paris. Before that. I don't want us to love each other so much but live apart, I don't want to have any more "dates" with my own husband and I'm tired of sleeping beside you but never with you! Do you understand?"

Behind the mask, Erik gaped at her. "You…you want to come back?"

Christine smiled, "Only if you'll have me,"

* * *

_Happiness is a wonderful thing_. 

Even as I watch Christine sleep against me, it's contrary to all I've ever known. Her smiles, her touch, her warmth…she can't be real, can she?

The reality of Christine Daae, to be in my home and my bed…to know that she loves me for myself! It's wonderful! It's terrifying!

I want to rise up and sing our love out to the world, but Christine is asleep, and I will not disturb her for anything. She came back to me last night, she came to our bedroom willingly. We finished what we started the night we were betrayed by my mother…

_She lifted my mask and kissed me. She was not afraid of me. She has _never _been_ _afraid of me. Is this real…?_

She is so wonderful, so bright and beautiful. I never dreamed to find even a hint of affection, and here I have a wife in my arms! I am the envy of every man, and she has promised her love to me!

Christine is surely mad.

To protect what I have with her, I would fight to the death and I told her so, only hours ago. Christine laughed and assured me that it would never come to that. I want to disbelieve her words, but I can see what I feel for her mirrored back to me in her own eyes.

She laughed, told me that she was mine, and she kissed me.

_Beautiful girl._

Love.

It's the most dangerous, terrifying, powerful force in the world; this is what I thought I'd never find, what no woman could ever give me. It was bestowed on _me_, poor, wretched and undeserving Erik.

I'd always thought it was so complicated, but when I look at Christine, the world falls away, it all becomes so simple, so beautiful.

_I love you, Christine._

_You love me._

_If this is a dream, I pray to never wake up..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews and support. I'm sad the story is over, but at the same time I'm glad- Erik and Christine ended happily, and that's all any real Phantom fan ever wants!**


End file.
